


Demons in the Shadows

by mumkin97



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Queer Themes, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumkin97/pseuds/mumkin97
Summary: Follows the story of Inquisition from a Dalish elf, Islyandryl Lavellan. We begin during DA 2 in Kirkwall and uncover our main character's past, to follow them through her journeys as Inquisitor. Fighting both demons she can see and feel as well as those she cannot. Her strength coming from her faith, but also those beside her.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford





	1. The Templar and the Dalish

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Some graphic descriptions of violence

Islyandryl hated it when the keeper sent them on these missions. She understood their necessity but would much rather have spent her free time studying her people’s history and practicing magic or blade work. Yet here she was at the docks of Kirkwall with her companions preparing to visit the alienage and speak with the people of the city regarding recent events. Her clan needed to know how safe it was to stay in the area. Not 3 weeks ago a fellow clan had been completely wiped, rumor was that it was by the hand of their Keeper’s First. Needless to say people were on edge. As Clan Levellan’s First, a mage, as well as a skilled rogue, she led the mission into the heart of the city of Kirkwall. 

They ventured through the bleak alleys of Lowtown and spoke with the bartender in the Hangman’s Pub about the goings on. Islyandryl was well aware that he was most likely reporting information across the city. The guards would most likely be on the lookout for them soon. However, speaking with him was the quickest way to obtain as much information as possible, so it was a risk she was willing to take. 

“The Qunari are getting dangerous, they’ve kidnapped multiple elves, claiming that they wanted to join the Qun, and were unhappy with their lives. I don’t doubt this, I’m sure you’ve seen Darktown and the alienage…” Islyandryl nodded as if she was well aware of what he was referring to, as he continued gossiping. “ There’s a Fereldan refugee who comes here often and is working with the viscount to rectify the situation, but I doubt it’ll resolve before it comes to blows. Things are tense right now. As if that wasn’t enough… people have been dragged off to the gallows in massive numbers. Some have never been heard from again, the lucky ones write home of terrible conditions, some families receive word that their children have been made tranquil. Guards and Templars are so scared of the recent blood magic outbreak in the city that some have taken a kill on sight approach to any apostate they find.”

At this Islyandryl’s eyes widened and her delicate lips dropped open slightly. A young mage from her clan had gone missing last month on a hunting trip near the outskirts of the city along the coastline. Now she knew her friend’s fate. And it did not sound a fair way to go. Islyandryl thanked the bartender and tossed him an extra coin with a wink and a finger to her mouth. She knew him from the few trips to the city she’d taken in her lifetime. She hoped this familiarity and an extra coin or two would buy her a little more time before being discovered by the guards. They needed to get out, and fast. The Dalish were allowed in the city and protected under treaties. However, that did not mean the guard would be friendly. She was also a mage, and one of her clan members in her party was as well. Putting herself in danger she could tolerate, but others?

Islyandryl, Hiradeth, and Aenethal made it to the alienage after a short time. It was late afternoon and they couldn’t risk staying overnight in the city. As they approached the steps she gazed up at the Vhenadahl towering over the small settlement of elves. She smiled to herself, and touched the roots of the tree in reverence before speaking to the city elves. It was nice to steal away from the shemlans of the city and be around others like herself. This opinion wasn’t largely popular among the Dalish but she felt for those in the cities. Some didn’t even know the Dalish still existed, and most clung to the scraps of knowledge and culture they could find. It was nice to find such a prominent symbol of her people, especially such a positive one towering over the homes here and thriving. 

She felt a tug at her sleeve by one of her companions and the faint whisper of “mythal lasa gilhan.” She turned to see the crestfallen but alarmed stare of Aenethal, a warrior of her clan. She followed the gaze to a corner of the alienage to see a betrayer of her kind standing beside a shemlan and arguing loudly with him. A hiss escaped Islyandryl’s teeth and her eyes narrowed. Before her stood Merril. The First of her sister clan, and likely murderer of her people. She quickly turned her group to face away from them and wandered close to a shopkeeper in order to listen to their argument more intently. 

“I can’t believe you Hawke! You sided with  _ them! _ You know that magic can be controlled if taught correctly! You’ve seen me wield it and not stray!”

A quiet exasperated chuckle escaped the lips of Aenethal. Islyandryl shot a glare at him. If he blew their cover he would pay for it. Right now was not the time nor the place for his snide remarks. He understood the look directed at him immediately and glanced down at the wares in front of him in shame. Islyandryl gave the signal to leave and purchased a small trinket from the shopkeeper. Anything she could give these people right now had to help them. She could see the state of disrepair the alienage was in. 

“Ma serranas.” The shopkeeper said with wide eyes as Islyandryl handed her the coin. Islyandryl just smiled faintly and bowed her head in respect for her elder. 

As they wandered out of the alienage she turned and cast her eyes at Merril still arguing and whispered “Fen’harel ma ghilana, da’len.” 

Aenethal turned to her and whispered “she is more than lost to Fen’harel sister, that one all but serves him in name.” The group let out a collective release of breath and tension once out of view of the alienage and the betrayer. It was time to return to the clan. Part of her was saddened. The coastlines were her favorite to visit in their yearly wanderings and they had been cut short and ruined by the corruption here in the city. They wandered toward the gate to exit to the Wounded Coast before dusk fell and the gates were closed to all but evening guard patrols. 

They quietly stalked along the coast as night fell. Keeping ear and eye out for danger. Before long it became necessary to camp for the night before continuing on their journey in the morning. At least they weren’t trapped in the city. This surely was safer. They found a small outcropping of rock by the beach side and built a fire. They sat and sang their songs softly. Tonight’s voices seemed to be weighted down with despair and sadness. Her clan felt the same as she did. She knew it from the tremor in their notes and sparkle in their eye. They slept soundly hand and foot outstretched to make contact with their peers for the slightest comfort it would offer in the night. She was grateful especially to have Aenethal by her side. He was like a brother to her. A fellow mage, they often discussed their culture and searched for any hints of their history in the fade as they defended one another and protected each other from demons and curious spirits. At one point she’d wondered if their relationship would ever become more than familial affection, but she’d shaken the thought away not wanting to risk the true friendship she had with Aenethal. She hated putting him in danger on these missions, but there was no one in her clan she trusted more. As she drifted to sleep she laid a hand on his outstretched arm and squeezed his lean bicep gently.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cullen Rutherford was exhausted. He had just argued with Guard Captain Aveline and Knight Commander Meredith for the third time this week, and for Maker’s sake it was only Monday. As a newly elevated Knight Captain he had duties he knew he needed to uphold and respect. But Maker help him, he was not prepared for this much conflict and chaos within the city when he took this position. He readied a dose of lyrium, pulling the soft glowing blue liquid into a syringe and flicking the needle before pressing it into the crook of his arm and sighing in sweet relief as he felt its power and strength wash over him. The stress this position had put him under made his use of the substance increase substantially as he found himself drained more frequently. He wasn’t sure if it was from the constant bickering among the elite of the city or the consistent usage of his powers as a Templar bringing in mages for the circle to tend to and teach. However, Cullen had increased his usage of lyrium from once a month to weekly doses, more on especially rough weeks. 

Tonight he was to accompany the guard and a small complement of templars on the wounded coast patrol. There were reports from earlier today that Dalish elves and possibly blood mages had entered the city to cause further chaos. They were to dispatch them if magic was wielded against them, this would be confirmation enough of the rumors. They could bring them in for questioning if magic was not wielded and they were not upfront with their reasoning for being in the city. He sighed heavily as he lifted himself from his chair and began tying and placing his heavy templar armor on again. A large half-Qunari Tranquil helped to tie and place the armor he could not reach. He thanked them, even if the thought of a half-Qunari, once mage, made his stomach turn in fright. He grabbed his sword and shield and walked out to gather his men and join the guard patrol. 

They clanked along the Wounded Coast road,  _ sweet Andraste _ these guards and new templar recruits really did not know the meaning of stealth. At least not until they saw the dull glow of a fire in the distance along the shoreline. Every one of them tensed at the sight. Who in the Makers name would camp outside of the city on a night with the chilled ocean breeze this harsh? One thought came to his mind, probably the Dalish. 

They shielded themselves as they gathered close to the makeshift camp. Knight Captain Cullen stood back prepared to provide assistance against mages as the guard pounced on the sleeping elves. The fight that ensued was short lived but quite brutal. One of the elves had not been truly asleep and had flipped over a guard in a fluent graceful movement and stabbed them precisely and accurately at the base of the skull through their neck. She gracefully jumped away and bounded over the rocks. Two guards set after her. Cullen was raising a ward as he saw a mage lift a hand of fire and prepare to blast it at a guard nearby wrangling a male warrior to the ground. He protected the guard and quickly saw a templar leap behind the elf and end them, quickly and kindly. The warrior on the ground let out a gargled scream of rage, and flew off over the rocks in the opposite direction of the other elf. Only to be shot down by a crossbowman quickly. Cullen raised his eyes at the crossbowman in rage. 

“What was the meaning of that? Tell me guard will you explain to Knight Commander Meredith and Guard Captain Aveline why a simple blade wielding elf was dispatched when we were given clear instruction only to kill the blood mages!?” He saw the crossbowman cower under his height and stare. He realized then that he was gripping the handle of his sword in its sheath as if to strike out. Cullen briskly pointed to one of his men and the Guard Leader, the only two remaining men in the clearing. “ You two, bring this man before the Commander and Captain to answer for his blatant disregard of orders. I will see to it that the remaining soldiers are found and return safely.” They nodded briskly and set off for the city walls. 

Cullen sighed and released his grip from the sword at his side. He never had an easy time when the guard was forced to work with templars. Guard Captain Aveline was new to her post and could not be blamed for their incompetence, but she surely had some corruption to weed out amongst her own.

He cleared his head and looked at the mess of the camp and path in front of him. A dead guard, and two dead elves. The camp was simple, a couple weapons, a few bed rolls, nothing overtly questionable or suspicious. Other than the fact that these items were clearly Dalish, and the city was currently in utter chaos. The Dalish were skittish, so he understood the Guard Leader’s attempt to jump them. It was the only way they would surely gain information. But slaughter as a result of that decision was not what he had hoped for. 

Cullen followed the path of the rogue elf and two guards over one of the outcroppings and along a small winding path up a hill. He could see Tal-Vashoth Markings along the path. This was a dangerous route to take. Perhaps the elf knew that, perhaps not. When he rounded another corner he found the elf beaten and bound at the feet of a very exhausted and wounded guard, the other guard was kicking her unconscious body viciously. She had clearly been knocked on the head so hard she’d fainted. The guards were still clearly enraged at how she had cut him and nearly escaped. The guard with the slashed knee began to beat at her with the pommel of his sword. Upon seeing this Cullen immediately raised a ward to protect the girl, and upon striking it both guards flew back about 6 feet and landed in a cloud of dust. Cullen quickly approached the men, placed his blade at one of their throats, and foot on the other’s wrist. Cullen used a low growling tone… “Explain yourself…”

The guard coughed and sputtered sand and dust out of his mouth and keened at the gash on his arm. As he felt the cold blade touch his throat though, he gathered himself in fear and glared up at the knight captain looming over him. 

“The Bitch Knife-ear deserved it!” The other guard nodded furiously.

Cullen took another step closer to the man and leaned over him slightly. He saw the flash of fear and understanding cross the guards face.

“Th….the other guard caught up to her before me… she stopped to talk to them… some shit about the clan name and needing answers for a lost mage… w...wondering on whether to flee following the recent slaughter of a sister clan… good riddance if you ask me…” 

Cullen snarled “ I didn’t. ”

The Guard mumbled to himself “Andraste’s Tits.”

Cullen pulled a small curved dagger from his side, leaned close to the man and replaced his sword with the dagger, causing a small bubble of blood to drip from the guards neck. “Use her holy’s name in vain again and I will end you where you lay.” … He took a deep inhale to center himself… “So you thought it was best to what? Beat her to death? How did you two think that would go over with the Guard and Templar Order? Never mind the Clan Treaties… oh wait you didn’t. You also disregarded a direct order on not killing non-mages, and letting go free anyone who gave information willingly…. You will go back to the city and turn in your weapons to the guard captain and await trial in the dungeons. Should I return to the city and see that this order is not carried out I will see you both punished severely and your names slandered. Do I make myself clear?”

The men shivered in fear below the looming Captain, who had begun to vibrate with the power of his earlier Lyrium dose. They glanced at one another and spoke a slow quiet “yes. Sir.” 

Cullen leaned away and sheathed his weapons. Nodding off in the direction of the city. The guards slowly stood and hobbled off toward the main path and city walls. With another centering breath he turned toward the small elven girl. Maker’s breath she was badly wounded. He quickly assessed her wounds. A gash on the face barely missing her eye and bleeding badly, probably a concussion, a broken arm, a gash on her thigh, and multiple broken ribs. He shook his head sadly, no one deserved this kind of treatment. He gently laid her back and cradled her head in his hands and dripped a high tier health potion made specially for the templar order into her mouth. Her breathing came from shallow to stable very slowly, and he could feel her mana replenishing. He gently scooped her and carried her to an empty guard tower nearby. She was light in his arms, and smelled of Embrium and … what was that? Dawn Lotus? He hadn’t smelled that sweet elixir since he was home in Ferelden by the lakefront as a child. He laid her on one of the cots and sat beside her sighing. This was going to be one hell of a report to file, and an awful thing to explain to her clan. Tensions in the city were already so high and more conflict with the elves, especially the Dalish, was not something needed right now. 

As he sat and tended to her, setting her arm, washing away the blood from her face and arms, sewing closed the gash in her leg he was able to see her more clearly. Through the bruised and swollen face he could make out faint tattoos on her face and neck. They delicately lined her face. Her cheeks draped with soft branches, her forehead displaying an intricate and beautiful tree structure that was a dark burgundy in color. It paired with her strong features and dark skin tone well. Her hair was close cropped and shaved along the sides. He giggled to himself, the Dalish sure had strange customs, that was a man’s haircut, and here was this delicate, rather curvy female elf sporting it. As he washed the blood from her hands and mended some scratches he noticed the same delicate branch structures along her fingers and wrist… His eyes followed them as they disappeared beneath her light leather armor. He found himself wondering where they led to, and if they covered her entire body… Sweet maker, he needed to pull himself together, now was not the time. He would chastise himself for that thought for the next week during the daily chant. He forced himself to focus on her face as he carefully sewed together the torn flesh above her right eye. This was going to scar and destroy her lovely tattoo, he tried his best to preserve and align what he could.

He drifted off beside her, exhausted from the day's events. But had not let go of her sweet delicate hand. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Islyandryl woke to the soft rays of light reflecting through the windows. Creators, she was sore. What had possessed those guards to attack her? She would never understand the anger of the shemlans against her people. She winced as she recalled one of them screaming “knife-ear” as he beat her. The wince brought her to the present though, as she realized she wasn’t alone. There was a shemlan man, with soft blonde curly hair sitting in the chair beside her cot. He was softly snoring and in one hand held a cloth spotted with blood in his lap. His other hand… 

Creators! His other hand was holding hers!

She instinctively pulled away quickly making her body ache and the man in the chair stir awake. He looked at her with the softest golden eyes she had ever seen. They looked like a soft sunrise over a misty mountain range. A small scar curved from his lip up slightly. His sleepy dazed composure melted Islyandryl’s heart for just a moment. Before they both steeled themselves again and the mist vanished from his eyes. He cleared his throat and apologized for startling her and drifting off during his watch. She was so confused. Where was she? Who was this man? How had she gotten here? Where was the brutal man who had beaten her?

She sat up straight quickly, reaching behind her back for her blades but grasped only air. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lake laps against the dock and in the distance the snow capped Frostbacks loom over the valley. The scent of dawn lotus, a rare and precious plant, wafts up from the shoreline and fills my nose with sweet memories. I’m holding a soft delicate hand, it makes me happy, I feel safe and cared for for the first time since childhood. The vision dissipates before I can turn to see the keeper of this dream. 

Ugh… what a wonderful dream. Why do such things need to end? At least it wasn’t another fitful lyrium deprived nightmare. Thank Andraste for her mercy. Cullen glanced up sleep still lingering at the corners of his vision and saw a small elf with intricate dendritic tattoos crossing her body. He smiled faintly at her beauty and caught her Viridian Green eyes. Maker. Those eyes.

Suddenly, he’s aware of himself and straightening up and apologizing profusely. 

“My lady, I sincerely apologize for lacking in my duty and drifting off. I also humbly beg your forgiveness for the treatment you received from my fellow countrymen.” The alarm in her eyes only grew at his words and he didn’t know how to ease her comfort. For some reason that pulled at his chest annoyingly. 

She reached behind her suddenly, fury in her eyes, only for panic to once again grip them when she grasped only air. Shit, she was afraid, cornered and still on the defensive. She had every reason to be. Cullen slowly turned and grasped the two large daggers on the table. He could see her tense in fear and her hand flatten face up at her side. Strange… She couldn’t be a mage if she was wielding swords, that would be preposterous. Mages never bothered to learn any skill other than magic and arcana. Surely if she was she’d have used her magic to defend herself last night as well. Cullen brushed the stupid nightmare driven thought from his mind as he held them toward her flat in his palms reverently. He saw mages everywhere now, even where they couldn’t be, it wasn’t fair to the people around him.

“I mean you no harm, I only took these from your person to better tend to your wounds. You’ve healed well from the potion I gave you. However, I fear your injuries may take greater time for you to fully recover.”

Her eyes flashed in astonishment, and the fear drifted away from them slowly. She reached for the daggers and Cullen tensed anxiously. She could slit his throat if she wanted to. He saw her move last night at the camp site. She placed a hand on them and pushed his hands toward the table where he had retrieved them from. 

“Ma Serannas.” she said quietly in the most beautiful tone he had ever heard and she bowed her head before him. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shemlan sat here before her… trusting so completely. Iz could kill him…. But he could’ve killed her as well… 

Islyandryl gave him a soft smile to accompany her thanks. 

“Can you… explain what happened? I’m a little confused and dazed.”

He gulped in front of her. He looked so nervous. What happened? Where in Fen’Harel’s lair was she!?

That's when he explained what happened… The cruel guard wielding his prejudice against her, beating her within an inch of her life despite the order from his peers clearly dictating otherwise. The mistrust and tension of the city leaking into how they approached the elves last night. The sorrow in his voice leeched across the divide between them. 

“M...my friends?”

“They’re dead… I’m so sorry.” 

A tear cascaded down Islyandryl’s face as she heard this news. And she softly bowed her head and began to sing softly almost at a whisper in elvish. The sound was hauntingly beautiful to Cullen’s ears. He knew what was happening, without understanding a word she spoke. She was praying to her creators, for their souls. His respect and admiration for the small elven woman in front of him leapt mighty heights. He had spent last night tending her wounds singing the chant for the fallen as well. He allowed her a moment of peace to finish her song. And only returned his gaze to hers when her breathing had returned to normal and he could feel her gaze on him. 

“What is your name?” He asked quietly.

“Islyandryl Lavellan. Yours?” she responded with a newfound confidence. He allowed her a moment to mourn. This man had shown her more respect in a mere matter of hours then most elves or shelmen did in a lifetime. He still didn’t know she could wield magic though. Islyandryl reminded herself of this diligently as she recalled taking a mage’s stance earlier and mentally chastised herself. 

“Knight Templar Captain Cullen Rutherford. If you’re feeling well enough in a few hours I can return you to your clan if you’d like? It’s not safe for you to travel alone right now.” 

Islyandryl shook her head instinctively and then recalled her wounds and her lost companions. Aenethal was her brother in all but blood… She would mourn him properly once she returned home and the clan was safely away from this Wolve’s den. 

“Please, I insist.” He reaffirmed in response to her trepidation.

She gave in “You’re probably right. Though, you should know that you cannot enter the clan space without the keeper’s permission. I will plead for your exception, as you’ve been kind to me.” He nodded at this and looked her over. His intent gaze made her face flush slightly. Creators, why was she blushing? She could feel it creep all the way to the tips of her ears! This is a Shemlan! … how ever… appealing to the eye his face might be. 

“I’m sorry to say, I think that cut on your face from the guard will scar despite my best efforts. And the cut to your leg surely will.” Islyandryl’s hand wandered up to her face to touch the tender space above her eye. The bastard tried to carve it from her face in desperation after she’d slashed at him in the back of the knee. It was deep, she could feel it. And there was a small cut lower on her cheek where it continued down slightly where the blade had glanced off her brow bone. She silently thanked the Creators for her elven features. If she’d been a dwarf or even a shemlan he would have taken sight from her. She glanced up to see the Captain looking sorrowfully at her. Like a kicked pup. 

“We should eat and then get moving if you’d like to be back before nightfall.” She nodded excitedly at the thought of food and then quickly recoiled at the sight of dried meat sticks held out in front of her. They smelled strange. And she offered him a sweet smile but she could tell he noticed the force behind it. Cullen chuckled lightly, explaining it was standard Templar issue rations, dried and salted meats from local farms. He offered that this one should be some strange hyena breed from the Hissing Wastes. Fancy stock, but easy to acquire for Templars, especially one higher in rank. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they finally arrived at the base of the Lavellan encampment both Cullen and Islyandryl were grateful. “Iz” as he had come to call her struggled across vertical slopes due to her injuries, and Cullen had to carry her through 90% of those stretches despite repeated insistence that she could in fact maneuver them. He was convinced she could, it would just take an entire additional day if he allowed her to remain obstinate. 

This had resulted in her blushing heavily as he easily hoisted her into his arms despite the added weight of his armor and gear. He was clearly strong and muscular under all that armor. Creators why was she blushing over a shemlan he was nothing like the men she’d considered in her clan to be attractive. She convinced herself to think of her ex-girlfriend to persuade her mind away from this shemlan holding her close to his chest. This succeeded only in making her blush deepen and her choke on her own breaths. He looked straight forward despite her clear cowering in his arms. 

She smelled of Dawn Lotus and Embrium again. And now it was stronger that she was closer to Cullen. It was unbearably wonderful to hold her like this. He chastised himself again adding to the list of things to beg of forgiveness for during his chants that week as he thought of her slight figure curled in his arms and the soft look she gave him with a deep red face. She caught him staring only once. Then he willed himself through Andraste to stare forward. 

He set her down in silence at the base of the trail to the camp. 

“Ma Serranas, Cullen. I thank you for your assistance in this and caring for me through my injury…. Oh and beating that crazed guard off of me…” She glanced down and blushed as she chuckled at the last part. 

Cullen choked a little at her sincerity. “Uh… I … Of course Lady Levallan. Thank you for trusting me despite my peers.” 

“Wait here okay? I will speak with the keeper.” 

Cullen nodded, and she limped off up the path. He could hear in the distance gasps and whoops of joy as she arrived in the camp and then a thick silence fell. He worried that he was vulnerable here, but had to trust that she would speak kindly of him. Before long, two Dalish elves, a man and a woman appeared. One had a bow slung across her back and the other wielded a staff. A mage… Cullen’s stomach turned at the thought. They glared at him but motioned him forward along the path. The bowman leading the way, and the mage behind him. This made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge, and a small bead of sweat to drip down his neck. They arrived in the camp quickly to his relief and he was led straight to a large tent at the far end of the encampment. Inside he found Islyandryl lying propped up against a wall with a mage healer tending her wounds, and the keeper sitting beside her speaking with her softly. 

“The Shemlan was where you said he would be waiting, Keeper.” They nodded and backed out of the tent reverently. Cullen cleared his throat and approached them at Islyandryl’s smile and the keeper’s gesture. He sat beside them on a stone seat and straightened himself.

“Keeper, This is Knight Captain Cullen. The shem- the man I told you about.” Islyandryl stuttered through her introduction. Clearly flustered by her previous conversation with the keeper that he had interrupted. He bowed his head at them both as Iz had done to him in the guard tower. The keeper smiled and waited for him to explain the events of the night prior.    
  


When he was finished, he was thanked innumerably and fed the most wonderful spiced fish he had ever tasted. He was offered a tent on the far end of camp for the night, provided he left at first light. He graciously accepted, because, in honest truth… carrying Iz up the path to her clan had been exhausting. She was light, but he would not have worn full armor had he known that was going to be the event of the day. 

He was just drifting off for the night when he heard a mournful song coming from outside. It sounded like the one Iz had sang earlier. But this was not in a hushed tone, and more voices were gathering. He opened the curtain to his tent to see the clan sitting around a mage fire. Swaying softly and singing this haunting tune. 

Iz was standing with a mage staff leaning against it beside the Keeper, and tears were rolling down her face. She would miss her companions so much, and she felt as though she’d failed them. While the clan was sure of their next steps, and thus the mission was a success, when anyone fell she felt like a failure. 

She held two items in her hands. A pendant found in Aenethal’s belongings in his safe box, and a ring found amongst Hiradeth’s. She clutched them close to her and passed them around the clan, so each member could hold their brothers close and grieve them for a moment. When the items returned to her she passed them to the Keeper. Who cast a binding spell combining the ring and pendant into a beautiful jewel that was added to her staff. In elvish the Keeper whispered to her “keep them close to your heart and honor them with your actions. Grieve, but let your guilt go my child.” Iz’s head bowed and she stamped her staff into the ground and straightened up. The mage fire in front of her swelled with her energy as the song ended, and her clan sat in silence and stared at the flames, till they too, died out. 

Cullen closed the curtain to his tent, tears streaming slowly from his eyes. He felt like he was intruding, but what he had just witnessed was the most beautiful ceremony he’d seen in a long time. The love these people had for their kin was truly something to behold. He was puzzled by the staff in Iz’s hands and the seeming growth of the mage fire when she straightened up. She didn’t cast anything. Perhaps it was the keeper and she was merely holding the staff for balance due to her injury? Yes, that must be it. Cullen couldn’t tell if he was making excuses not to believe she was a mage or was truly being reasonable. 

Cullen did not speak with Iz again, when he awoke to leave and checked on her tent before departing she was sound asleep and finally looked peaceful. He didn’t want to disturb her so he mentally stored the image of her and stole away from the camp before the rest of the Dalish woke. Explaining this to the Commander and Guard Captain was going to be fun.


	2. The Faithful and the Damned

Four years had passed since the decision to leave the Wounded Coastline and Kirkwall. The Lavellan Clan had travelled to Thedas and the area the Shemlan called Fereldan. Here they found tensions rising just like they had in Kirkwall. Mages being murdered and stolen, Templars and Guards alike allowing fear of blood magic and racism rule their decisions. It was clear it was no longer safe to remain. The decision was made by the Keeper to make their way back toward the Wounded Coast. There they would find a new place to settle their clan for the winter and keep their location as secret as possible from shemlen nearby.

The Keeper came to Islyandryl that night and asked for a ‘small’ favor.

“Da’len, I have heard whispers. Some of the humans and other races are tired of the fighting and chaos as well. There is to be a meeting near the town of Haven. I want you to go and learn as much as you can. I want you to use your knowledge to try to influence positive change on the world.”

“Keeper, what?! How should I, a Dalish, persuade anyone? We are persecuted in every land, and mages even more so!” 

“Da’len, you are my First, I would trust this to no one else. I do not understand it either, but I know you must go, our people cannot be left out of this.”

With confusion still in her eyes and fear creeping into her heart Islyandryl nodded stonily. “I will do as you ask, Keeper.” She bowed her head in reverence. “When do I depart?”

“Tonight da’len…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Green light…

Pain searing through her bones…

A memory of Aenethal… Touching the Dread Wolf’s totem on her way out of camp… Pleading for Clan Lavellan’s safety.

Keeper?

Islyandryl’s eyes flashed open to find herself bound on a hard stone floor. Frantically she looked around to see she’s alone and then suddenly the pain was back. She glanced down at its source and tears pricked in her eyes from fear as a green glow increased and pulsed. She called out in pain and gripped it tightly, willing the pain to fade. 

The jail door burst open and a woman with short black hair and a red headed cloaked woman entered the room swiftly. They looked angry. Iz was truly confused now. The last thing she remembered was… Creator’s above and below what was her last memory? Leaving for the conclave? Seeing the town?

Her eyes searched the floor as if she would find her memory there, like a loose pebble amidst the cobbles. 

The woman with raven black hair spoke first “ Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

Islyandryl’s eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment all sound and thought escaped her.

The Raven haired woman grabbed her by the wrist harshly and screamed “explain this!”   
In that moment the mark on her hand flared and Islyandryl keened in pain again. 

“ I can’t… I’m sorry I don’t remember!”

The raven haired woman reached up to strike her and the redhead caught her hand midair.

“Cassandra, we need her…” She turned her attention to Iz and softly said “what can you recall? Anything at all?” 

Iz stuttered and her face crumpled in focus and frustration. “I...I remember running from something… and a … a woman…” 

“A woman?” they gasped as Cassandra asked.

The next thing Iz knew she was being led outside and was staring at a gaping green hole in the sky… right over where the temple once was. The skyline she admired when she first arrived was marred by an ugly black scar across the land. Soldiers and medics were rushing to and fro. The town looked more like a warzone than the peaceful villa she remembered. 

“Your mark may help us fix this. People are dying and demons are seeping through into our world through that rift in the sky… will you help us?” 

Her words seemed surreal and they flowed through Islyandryl’s mind like mud in a slow flowing creek. “Y...yes” She stammered out before she realized what she'd said. A collective sigh of relief cast across the two women and Islyandryl was released from her manacles and introduced to a few individuals nearby.

“You’ve been out for about a day. We’ve been trying to hold the town but it’s growing difficult. Some individuals who were in the town to support the conclave and locals have gathered to support our forces. An Inquisition has been declared in Divine Justinia’s absence. Once the Breech is taken care of we as a collective intend to set right what the conclave failed to.”

Her words washed over Iz like waves in a tidal pool. She just nodded as a flurry of people were introduced. Vivienne, a mage, dark skinned like her but much darker. She was beautiful and elegant, and wielded Ice magic like a dagger at the oncoming wave of demons approaching the town. Dorian, a Tevinter mage, oddly elegant in the way he danced and sashayed between lunges and casts of magic at the demons, never breaking a coy smile. A Large Qunari Mercenary, clearly a spy just from the looks of him, but Iz certainly wasn’t about to rat him out, not in her current position. In passing someone called him Iron Bull, what an odd name for a Qunari, was he Tal-Vashoth? Finally a sad looking older man with black long curly waves of hair wearing the armor of a Grey Warden. His entire demeanor exuded honor in duty but profound sadness. 

The next thing she knew she was fighting alongside them. Handed two daggers on her way up the mountain pass and slaughtering the strange figures who burned and chilled with their very touch. Near the top two more people joined them. A short snarky dwarf, who… she could swear was stroking his crossbow between shots and whispering “good girl.” More than shemlan, dwarves were weird. She had never understood their abhorrence to the sky, but her people had a long history with them and they respected elves above any race. Finally she saw a friendly face, a fellow elf and a mage to boot. A man with strong features and skin as pale as snow. He smiled at her in the familiar welcoming manner of elves and she immediately eased slightly. He stayed by her side throughout the rest of the fight. It was a comforting notion and she was incredibly grateful. 

At the top they stood as a group beneath the looming green tear in the sky. As she approached, a booming voice resounded “ We have an intruder in our midst” and a feminine voice shouted “Run!” The look of recognition and horror on Cassandra and Lelliana’s faces told Iz they knew something she did not. 

She stood before the rift, larger and ever more daunting demons spilling out, trembling in fear. She looked out amongst the crowd of soldiers of all walks of life fighting and saw a flash of blonde curly hair, and strong arms wielding a templar sword not far from her. She instantly recognized him… Cullen? Creators… she thought she’d never see him again. 

Suddenly Solas, the elven mage was at her side, lifting her hand with the mark on it.  
“With me okay? We’ll get you through this.” Islyandryl nodded in confusion but agreement. She focused on the mark while Solas instructed her carefully and assisted with his own magic. Gently pointing her in the right direction when her magic strayed. He gently contained the explosion happening in her and helped direct it at the Rift in the sky and not the soldiers and people all around them. She was grateful for his guidance. She truly didn’t want to hurt anyone else in this lifetime or the next. 

With a final burst of energy the rift in front of her imploded, and a shock wave rippled out across the battlefield. Demons fell where they stood and soldiers recovered their stances and measured shock crossed their faces as they saw the tiny elvhen woman's hand glowing green with light standing before the tear in the sky. 

Islyandryl stood there wavering slightly, as Solas dropped her hand and went to collect their peers for further conversation. As her hand fell her eyes became heavy, and darkness creeped at the edges of her vision. Creator… This was it… she was dying… She was dying and she had no clue why or what had led to this moment. As her knees buckled and the world went black she swore she could feel a pair of strong warm arms around her. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was her… Maker it was really her. Islyandryl lay in Cullen’s arms limp and fading fast as they scrambled down the mountain side toward the town. They could hear voices rejoicing and celebrating all around them. He, Cassandra, and Solas sped toward the apothecary’s home in a desperate attempt to save the life of the young girl who had just selflessly saved theirs. He laid her down on a cot and turned abruptly to stand blocking the doorway. Anxiously staring at her prone body and chewing his thumb. Fear gripped him in a way he didn’t know possible. Still he guarded her in this state. Keeping the door shut tightly behind him and looming over those caring for her with a force to be reckoned with. The Elven mage was leaning over her working magic and the apothecary was fumbling through drawers searching for remnants of powerful healing potions. He hated seeing Solas standing over her like that. A mage touching this girl struck fear in him. He reached into his leather pouch and produced a templar healing potion and offered it to the apothecary before resuming his post by the door and nervously pacing. 

The apothecary added a few ingredients to the elixir and asked Solas to quickly heat it using mage fire. He did so with speed and efficiency and then the apothecary doused the potion down Islyandryl’s throat, not bothering to cool it first. A few drops ran down her cheek like tears. Cullen could feel his heart breaking for her as he watched her still and everyone step back… and wait…

The suspense of the moment nearly broke him. His knees trembled, after training his entire life to carry the weight of templar armor his knees had never trembled like that… at least not since…

Her chest rose softly then, and Solas let out a sigh of relief. He looked at him with worry and intent. 

“She’ll be alright. She just needs rest now.” The room sighed with relief…

Cassandra turned to Cullen. “If you can manage it Commander, would you please carry her to the house I was using as quarters? She deserves privacy to heal after all she has endured. Lelliana I’m sure will be alright with sharing her quarters with me.” Lelliana nodded from the corner of the room and retreated past Cullen and out the door. She was always all work. Cullen assumed she would go speak with her Ravens and start planning their next move before this one was even finished. 

Cullen gingerly lifted Islyandryl from the cot and cradled her in his arms. He lifted her head so that it rested against his chest. The scent of Dawn Lotus filled his lungs… and a tear crept into his eyes. He choked them back though his eyes still glazed. Every time he encountered this girl she was so broken and mistreated, always alone. Did no one care enough to defend this beautiful creature? He gently set her in the bed Cassandra had made for herself and covered her with the sheets. And whispered “Ma Serranas.” Before walking out and going straight to his quarters for a moment alone. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ugh the sun was too bright through her eyelids and everything hurt again. Was this really the welcome the Creators had given her? Islyandryl slowly opened her eyes to see the roof of a wooden cabin, and turned her head to see a small elvhen youth setting out clothing, food, and water on the bedside table. She sighed in the realization that she in fact was not with her Creators. Just then the youth dropped the tray a little too hard. She had startled them, clearly as they backed away quickly and ran out the door calling. “ I must tell Seeker Cassandra!” 

She rolled her eyes that woman put the fear of… who was it the shemlen worshiped again? She sat up slowly taking inventory of her injuries. No cuts or scrapes, just bruises and a raging headache. A soft knock came at her door. 

“Y..yes” Her voice cracked. Creators, apparently she was parched and throat so dry she could barely speak. 

The door slowly opened just enough for Cullen to walk through and briskly close the door behind him. His eyes caught hers and the worry and fear that gripped his face slowly faded.  
“You’ve been out for days… Can I get you anything?” Islyandryl opened her mouth to speak and a coughing fit ensued at the attempt to speak a full sentence. Cullen quickly crossed the room and grabbed the glass of water from the bedside. He sat beside her and offered it with a kind smile. 

Islyandryl took the glass with a shaky hand and lifted it to her mouth. She took a long draft, a few drops missed her mouth due to the unsteady grip of her hand. Cullen was right there to take it when she had finished so she didn’t need to fear dropping it all over them. Her arm fell to her side with relief and she looked at his kind smile and felt shame. She was so weak despite her physical appearance. He placed his hand on hers when he had placed the glass on the bedside. 

“I’ll make sure you have plenty, you’ll need it. No need to worry.” He noticed her eyes glance away in shame… and he paused for a moment, catching himself doting in a way he never had for anyone except maybe his sister Mia. “Th...there’s no need to feel a...ashamed. The power it must’ve taken to calm the Breach….” He stared in amazement for a moment. “You need time for your body to recover from that and it’s okay. I’ll tell the other’s of your condition, I'll tell them you need some time before speaking with them.” 

When she looked up from her knotted hand Islyandryl was caught again by those golden eyes. This time they did not mist over like the morning, but shone like the midday sun. She found comfort and strength in them. She caught herself staring and blushed slightly. “Thank you Cullen.” 

He gasped slightly. “ You remember my name?”

She giggled for a moment and then gasped in pain. He blanched at the sight. 

“Of course I do. You’ve saved my life. That warrants remembering a name...” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. She sounded like a bog toad, she was mortified. She had kept a Shemlan close to her because of a good deed. That was unheard of. She surprised the both of them at her statement. 

He smiled lightly. “I’ll let you rest some more. If you need anything from me please let your servant know to call for me. She’ll be by to check on you.”

He made his way away from her toward the door and paused for a moment. “It’s nice to see you…” and with that Cullen swept out of the room fast as lightning. Islyandryl was left to stare after him in shock.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since she woke and Islyandryl was feeling well enough to stand and dress herself without the help of the young elf who often visited with food or messages. She sat at the small desk opposite her bed and read one from Lelliana and Cassandra and another woman named Josephine. They told her of the Inquisition’s power growing since the Breach had been sealed. But the Chantry and many had declared them heretical. This was due to the people calling Islyandryl the “Herald of Andraste”... ahhh yes the shemlan deity. What a strange thing to call her, she wondered why that name had caught on. As soon as she felt ready they requested her presence for a meeting. Even if it was to take place in her chambers.

Islyandryl sighed. She had missed the company of people, but a full meeting surrounded by strangers calling her a Herald of their Goddess. Creators no she couldn’t handle that just yet… but perhaps… a visitor… 

She quickly grabbed a blank piece of paper and scrawled a note on it. When the elvhen servant visited again with lunch she asked her to deliver it straight into Commander Cullen’s hands as soon as possible. They looked frightened, but took their job very seriously and marched out of the cabin with a determined look that Islyandryl found amusing. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cullen was in the training yard. Since the Herald’s feat at the Breach recruits and refugees by the hundreds were arriving. They had massed in number so fast he was struggling to maintain order in training regiments. He had to completely restructure everything. He was standing in the field evaluating his work and the recruits’ development under it. 

He stood arms crossed, his face knitted in concentration as he barked orders. Suddenly a small squeak came from behind him. He thought nothing of it. Maybe a new recruit hurting themselves and trying to muffle the sound. He stood staring forward. And then suddenly he heard it a trill “Ehem! Commander Cullen.” His eyes widened and he spun to see a small elf before him with their arm outstretched and a piece of folded paper in hand. What in the Maker’s Name Cullen thought to himself. 

Then, they spoke again “The Herald of Andraste has sent me with this missive for you sir.” His eyes felt like they would pop out of his skull. She sent him a letter? What in the world?

He carefully took the piece of paper from their hand, noticing not even a seal on it and read it to himself.

You said I could ask for anything. Please visit me. 

His mouth hung open in shock. He quickly composed himself at the realization that his recruits had taken notice to his sudden change in demeanor and posture. He cleared his throat. “Please tell the Herald I will attend to this as soon as I am able.” With that response the elven servant flitted away without another word.

He had never run his recruits so hard. Suddenly his pace and intensity increased ten fold. They were dripping in sweat and heaving from drills within the hour. He dismissed them and gave them the remainder of the day off for R&R. Cullen swiftly made his way toward the town of Haven. Only to be stopped numerous times by stewards and messengers with more work for him to attend to. His response to each of them… “Please leave it on my desk in order of urgency.” As he strode past them barely acknowledging them for more than half a second he pondered her note. What in Andraste’s name could she possibly want from him? A Visit? What did that mean? He dared not let his mind wander too far. 

He stood before her door… and froze. He paced for a moment, raised his hand to knock, and froze again. Paced again, paused, determined this time. When he heard a gruff voice behind him boom. “Commander Cullen, are you intimidated by the Herald of Andraste?”

Varric… Of course Varric was behind him watching his nerves get the better of him. He sighed, ignored him and knocked on the door awaiting a response from inside. When he heard her voice he quickly fled into the cabin, hearing a soft low chuckle from behind him. 

When Cullen glanced up the Herald was nowhere in sight. Then he heard a crash from behind the dressing wall. “Delltash!” He heard her call out. 

“You were supposed to wait a moment Commander!” She shouted from across the room. Cullen turned bright red and turned toward the wall. 

“M...My apologies My Lady… I misheard you… I will excuse myself if you ….”

“Don’t you dare! I’ve been waiting for you…. Just give me a moment please.”

He heard a hopping noise and a deep sigh. The dressing wall ground against the floor as he heard her opening it, and then a brief chuckle escaped her lips. His blush deepened. 

“You can turn around Cullen, it’s alright now.” She said in a soft reassuring voice that made his heart leap into his throat. 

He turned to see her finally dressed and up. She looked brilliant. Her color had returned to her face, and eyes returned to the bold piercing dark green he remembered. She was dressed in tight leather armor made of halla hide. The pants and cropped top made of the same material and a tight undershirt wrap to guard her midsection. Her boots came up to her knee and she wore long gloves to protect her arms and provide her with better grip. He was mesmerized. How could she look so fearsome and beautiful and… attractive… all at the same time. He forgot to speak in a timely manner and his blush deepened. 

She giggled lightly, and he adored the sound.

“What do you think? Cassandra had it made for me. I think she’s trying to make up for being so mean when we first met.” Islyandryl twirled in a girlish manner while sweeping to pick up her daggers and place them behind her back. 

“I think she is too, though you were an elven spy. Her anger was justified.” This made her stop. Her smile faltering slightly. 

“You’re right. I should explain myself to her.” 

In an effort to regain the happy energized version he had seen moments before he stowed away his righteous self for the moment. “So, the Herald of Andraste has summoned me. What can I do for you my lady?” 

“You do know you can still call me by my name right? You’re the only person I’ve known longer than a week here…” She paused realizing her sincerity and actual desire to hear his soft comforting voice call her by her name again… She stuttered a moment glancing at her hands. “That is… If you’re comfortable doing so.” 

Cullen felt his chest tense and heart quicken. 

“Islyandryl… How can I help you?” His words felt like soft rain on a Fall evening. Fresh and cooling. She smiled softly at the sound of her name on his lips.

“I feel well enough to move, but I’m not ready to face the others… Will you accompany me on a short trip?” She felt the nerves in her stomach rise as she asked this of him. He still didn’t know of her mage abilities and she couldn’t keep them from him forever. 

Cullen softened at her question and smiled slightly “Of course. Where are we going?” 

“Just over the ridge of the mountain to the south of Haven. There’s a small patch of woods and a river where I made camp before the Conclave. I want to retrieve some of my things.” He nodded curtly.

“Give me a moment to collect my things and I’ll meet you by the lakefront?”

She nodded excitedly. Her grin creeping across her face ever wider.

“I should warn you. People will be excited to see you. You may not have peace during your trip to the lake.”

She nodded solemnly and steeled herself for the journey. 

They left the cabin together. People gasped as they saw Iz walk amongst the crowd. She smiled at them and even paused to play with a small child who was trailing at her heels. Cullen stopped in front of his tent and warmly regarded her before disappearing inside. 

Grabbing his sword and mounting his shield on his back he readied himself for the trip. What in Andraste’s name did she want him along for? Protection? Company? She certainly didn’t need directions, she was Dalish after all. When he emerged he saw her slight figure standing by the frozen lakefront staring off toward the mountains. Cassandra was beside her… surely berating her for her isolation. He saw Iz humble herself before Cassandra bowing her head. Cassandra just smiled sadly and lifted her to meet her gaze. As Cullen drew close he even saw Cassandra place a hand on her shoulder in kindness. This was not something he expected of the seeker. A soft side? For the Herald? Ohhhhh Varric was not going to let that one go. 

Iz turned and smiled at him as he walked up to her and Cassandra drew her arm away quickly. 

“Commander, please keep the Herald safe. I expect you two back by mid morning tomorrow at the latest or I will come get you myself.” She stalked off toward the town and Iz dared a giggle before she was out of earshot. Cullen could’ve swore he saw a flicker of a smile on Cassandra’s face. 

They set out across the lake and toward the ridgeline together side by side. Islyandryl, took a deep breath of the fresh air and readied herself. 

“I have a million questions Cullen…” She looked at him desperately. 

He was startled by her confession. But if this was the case wanted to help in any way he could. He nodded encouraging her to continue.

“What is the ‘Herald of Andraste’? Why are they calling me that?” She let out a deep exhale as she finished her question. 

Cullen smiled wryly. “The Herald is you. We all saw and heard the woman calling from the Breech the day you closed it and some even saw her behind you the day you fell from it. Many, believe it was Andraste herself who blessed you and sent you.”

Islyandryl’s mouth gaped… “But I’m Dalish” She emphasized the word harshly. 

Cullen regarded her with a saddened expression, “Yes, those who call the Inquisition heretics work are using that against us. It should not matter your race or origin though. You have been given the ability to help us through this calamity. That is a blessing of some sort.” 

Iz’s eyes cast downward. “What do you believe?”

He stopped walking for a moment. Considering her question deeply. Then continued on as he answered.

“I don’t know what I believe. I think it’s a miracle you arrived when you did and that you were able to close the Breach, saving us and surviving yourself. I don’t know if it was your gods or my deity that did it. But I'm grateful, and I have thanked the Maker for it.” 

They were quiet for a time both lingering on this.

“I’ve read the missives from the War Table… There’s still the conflict between Templars and Mages… I know you’re a Templar…”

Cullen cut her off. “I was a Templar. I left about six months ago to join Cassandra and her Inquisition.” 

“Oh!” Islyandryl said with genuine surprise. “So, If i may ask… What is your opinion of mages?”

This made Cullen’s entire personage change in an instant. He became distant and cold. It frightened Iz a little. 

“They are never to be trusted completely in my opinion. A mage can never truly escape the temptation of blood magic and the call of beings in the fade. It is too easy for them to hurt the people around them…”

Now Islyandryl paused. Frozen in her tracks at the vehemence of his response. 

“You sound like you speak from experience?” 

He nodded gravely… “The short version… I was tortured by a mage I once cared for during my first Circle assignment. And then I witnessed first hand the chaos of Kirkwall unfold after your clan left…” 

Islyandryl bowed her head. And continued walking on. They were close to their destination and night was fast approaching. She had a feeling he would not respond well when they made it to her camp, and wouldn’t want to stay here with her. Who knows maybe he’ll chase her off and tell Cassandra she ran away. Maybe she can return to her Clan then and forget about this mess. 

Cullen noticed Iz fall silent and sullen after his response. He realized that as a Dalish Elf magic was viewed and controlled differently then within the Circles. She probably had friends who were mages and took his comment personally. He decided to share a small intimate truth with her.

Quietly he added after a time “Not all mages are bad people doomed to use blood magic. I’ve met some truly wonderful people in the circles. I just can’t trust them fully.”

This gave Iz a slight glimmer of hope, and it was good timing because they’d arrived. 

She quickly scaled a tree and disappeared into the canopy. Cullen giggled at her agile figure as she bounced up the tree. Soon she was dangling from a low branch three trees away giggling as she threw sticks at him. He turned and laughed genuinely. A sound he had not heard escape from his mouth… in so long, it hurt. 

Islyandryl stopped giggling to listen to the melodic soft tenor of his voice carry toward her. She loved the sound of his laugh and it truly startled her. 

She dropped from the branch suddenly and landed adept on her feet. Her new boots absorbing the majority of the impact. Ohhh She liked this new armor very much. 

She held a small pack on her shoulder she’d gathered from the tree. Cullen noticed and gestured to it. “Is that everything?”

She hesitated… “No, there’s one other thing… But Cullen, can we sit for a minute?”

He sensed her unsure tone and placed a hand on hers as they sat on a fallen log beside the river bank. 

She took a deep breath and blurted her secret in the kindest most humane way she could.   
“You are the only one I truly know here. And you’re very kind to me. I would hate to lose your trust or companionship… But I feel the need to be honest with you…” She could see the worry etched in his face and concern carry from his eyes. She leaned over and drew from the end of the log a short staff. Covered in jewels and a curved blade at either end. 

“I’m a mage, and my clan’s First.” She placed the staff at their feet and saw Cullen tense and draw away from her. The desperation to not feel the loneliness she had for most of her life crept into her face…. But it wasn’t her turn to speak. It was her turn to allow him time to process.

He glanced down at the staff, and back at Islyandryl. Cullen felt fear, terror, and insult tear through him. He had grown to care for this girl. Maker he even… He even fantasized about her once… a very long time ago… He’d shared things with her that… he didn’t share with anyone. And here she sat looking… like that… telling him she was an abomination, an apostate. A mage. His mind spit the word like a curse. He had to close his eyes for a moment to remind himself that he couldn’t view mages this way anymore. The entire point of the Inquisition was to find a balance, a new order that worked for everyone and restored peace. Mages were vital in this, he had to trust. 

Cullen swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen you wield magic though? I thought you were a rogue? And your daggers were your weapon?” His question was kind but his voice was like icy daggers. 

Iz winced. “I recognize that there is more to life than my magic. I have trained to be more than that. To protect myself beyond my powers. One day my clan will rely on me as their keeper. I want to keep them safe from physical and magical threats. Our world has had it’s fair share of both.”

Cullen froze at this response. She was talking about the guard… and the templars… Had she used her magic that night so long ago she would be dead. Not a second thought for her or her clan. 

After what seemed like an eternity Cullen reached for the staff and handed it to Islyandryl.  
“Thank you for telling me…”

He got up and walked away… leaving Iz alone staff in hand and blades on her back. Protected from the world but not the people in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to balance story that I'm sure we all know with the development of romance between these and other characters. Comments/suggestions are welcome! This is my first ever fanfic so i'm very excited to share this.


	3. Confessions

It had been two weeks since she revealed to Cullen that she was a mage. They had made their way back to camp that night separately. Mid morning Cassandra was at her door calling for a meeting and the work finally began. That day the camp learned the knowledge as well.

Now she stood around the war table listening to everyone bicker about what was right and wrong to do in this situation. The Mages and Templars declared that they refused to work with one another. The Grey Wardens were nowhere to be found, and demons were leaking from rifts across both Orlais and Fereldan despite the Breach being sealed. Corruption was clear on both sides and it was time to choose a damned side to ally with. Cassandra supported Cullen’s obvious favoritism for the Templars. Lelliana was flexible either way, Josephine the diplomatic master favored the mage’s plight. Which honestly warmed Islyandryl’s heart. That a shemlan could have such a kind soul and want to help those who had clearly been forced to their breaking point. Solas, who was not part of their regular meetings joined today to voice his opinion for Mage support before excusing himself. 

Islyandryl stood in silence listening to everyone's arguments, not giving one way or the other. They clearly wanted her to make the final decision. Either because they wanted a scapegoat if it all went wrong or they genuinely believed that the Herald of Andraste could make a difference. Either way Solas had determined that one group's help would be needed to permanently seal the Breach and they certainly wouldn’t work together. 

Cullen stared across the table angrily shouting at Josephine, who he knew didn’t deserve it. But he wanted to shout. Islyandryl had not said a word during the meeting. Just stood there staring at the war table and nodding at what people said. He was enraged that she stood by so silent when her favoritism was apparent. 

Finally, Lelliana asked her directly, something everyone had avoided doing. 

Islyandryl sighed and stared in silence for a moment more. Honestly just enjoying that the arguing had stopped. She’d made up her mind hours ago. 

“The mages feel threatened by distrustful and corrupt templars. They feel policed and pressured. Even those who are good inside turn toward the darkness because of the fear they have. They do need help Josephine you’re right.”

Cullen threw up his hands in exasperation. Ready to yell. This time directly at her like he’d wanted to for weeks. But then he met her gaze. Those green eyes looked into him and pleaded as well as demanded that he let her finish. He rested his hands on the table’s edge, gripping it tightly and waited.

“However, from what I know of the templars they suffer their own plight. What my people call an ‘addiction’ to Lyrium controlled by their own masters.” She made eye contact with Cullen as she continued. Making him shrink beneath her gaze. 

“To fix the system we must rebuild it. The policing force is broken, it never worked truly. We need to side with the templars. This way we can influence them, and in time reform them to treat mages with less fear and more compassion. This way mages feel supported in their burden and do not fall to the very demons they are accused of sleeping with.”

Everyone at the table held their silence and watched as Commander Cullen shrank beneath the Herald of Andraste’s words. He bowed his head before her and in a breathy voice said, “Ma Serannas, Islyandryl.” This broke her steel countenance. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Iz woke early, prepared herself for a long journey and met her companions outside by the training grounds. Cullen as a once Templar was to accompany them, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric also joined them as they made their way for Therinfal Redoubt, the Templar Fortress. Most of the journey was spent cheerily listening to Varric recount tales of The hero of Fereldan and The Champion of Kirkwall. Iz had not heard many of these stories and Varric enjoyed watching her hang on his every word and excitedly ask questions that Varric would inevitably never answer. 

When dusk fell they made camp. The fortress was more than a day’s ride from Haven and they expected to have to set camp. They did so quickly and settled around the fire eating game that Varric had shot along the way, Islyandryl had asked for a separate piece to be cut for her to prepare herself. She was tired of shemlen food and needing something that tasted of home tonight. 

Cullen sat away from Iz still but she caught him glancing her way once or twice. And she smiled when she caught his eye, trying her best to be friendly to the only person who truly knew her here despite his cold shoulder approach recently.

Islyandryl needed to escape for a bit. The elvhen food wasn’t cutting it, she needed to reconnect with her people, and this was the perfect place.

She excused herself and wandered off into the woods, daggers in hand, staff left at camp resting against her tent. Cullen glanced up to see her smile at him again as she wandered off. 

The moment she was out of sight Varric and Cassandra glared at him and tore into him.   
“What the hell Curly!? Are you going to hate her forever just because she can wield magic?” Varric shouted loud enough for Iz to hear even though she was out of sight.

Cassandra glared and said “She even agreed to side with the Templars. Maker, you are stubborn.” 

Cullen bowed his head in defeat, lifted his tired self from his seat, and wandered in the direction Iz went.

He followed her tracks for a few minutes and then he could hear the gurgle of water and singing. And something… Sweet on the air. 

There was a small marshy patch beside the bend in the river. Amidst the thicket He saw Islyandryl bent over, dagger in hand harvesting something delicate. She was singing softly to herself. It wasn’t a mournful tune. But it wasn’t a happy one either. It sounded forceful, like a tale of warning and treachery. He didn’t understand a lick of elvish other than the few words he had learned for her… but he could feel the music. 

Cullen leaned against a tree and watched. Allowing himself to slip into the old feelings he held for her and had suppressed for weeks. She was beautiful in every way he had to admit. Just then he saw her hands reach out and cast a mage fire with no implement to guide the energy. His eyes bulged from his head and his heart quickened. She would burn down the forest, or call a demon. What was she thinking!

But he stood and watched as she tossed the delicate petals into the flame and added a small drop of a tincture from her side pouch. Smoke cascading up, she used her free hand to guide the smoke over her body. That's when he smelled it. Embrium and Dawn Lotus. Where in Maker’s name did she find Dawn Lotus out here? 

Iz was lost in the song of her people. A tale of the warning of the dread wolf and the creation of the veil. Something that created so much beauty but destroyed her people. 

When her song ended she closed her hand and put out the mage fire. That when she heard him approach, glanced up to see his golden eyes smile at her in return finally. She patted the stump beside her and they sat together. 

“How did you do that without something to focus your magic?” 

This? Iz said? As she made a flame dance between her fingers and change color at her will.

Cullen’s eyes widened again and he nodded. Amazement in his eyes but a flicker of fear across his face. She immediately put it out. 

“It’s something my keeper taught me. I took to mage fire from a young age. Burned down a sacred site my keeper took me to once. It was completely an accident. But she told me then ‘Never to play with magic if you cannot control and understand it completely.’ That’s when I took up my daggers. She thought I'd abandoned magic entirely, but she let me walk my path… When we returned a summer later I showed her that I could balance my mage fire on the tip of my blade. Controlling its height and power even while wielding the blade.” Iz chuckled faintly, “ I think I nearly scared her to death like you.” 

Cullen stared in amazement. “I had no idea such control was possible.” 

Iz looked him in the eyes then and bowed her head. “ I am sorry if you ever felt deceived by me. It was never my intention.”

Again Cullen starred in pure amazement at her… and placed a gentle hand on hers, squeezing it tightly and watching the river flow by. 

“I have a confession.” He said when the silence had spread between them again.

“As a templar we’re given Lyrium to give us and enhance our abilities. When I joined the inquisition I stopped taking it. I’m struggling with pain, and flashbacks amidst everything else. But I want to be free of it. I want to know I can still be me without it.” 

When Iz lifted her head his gaze was off in another world. But there was a smile on his lips. She scooted closer to him and watched the river flow placing the hand he hand offered in her lap and her head on his shoulder. She didn’t know what had brought on this sudden willingness to share and possibly even trust from the both of them. But she was grateful to have a friend back by her side right now.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The return from Therinfal Redoubt took longer than the journey there. Iz no longer pitched her tent at the heart near the fire, but at the very edge of the encampment away from everyone else. Cullen worried for her. The Templars had turned out to be far more corrupt than even he had imagined. A substance they referred to as “red lyrium” had taken many of their minds, and turned others into abominations. Iz had fought a demon of nightmares, and came out of it holding the hand of a spirit she’d found. She didn’t speak to anyone after that. But Cullen could hear her nightmares as he patrolled past her tent at night. 

The Spirit appeared before him one night as he listened. Iz had called him Cole.   
“Sadness, wants to hold her close and kiss the nightmares away.”

Cullen looked at him startled, as he’d just given word and breath to his feelings just moments prior. 

Cole continued. “Afraid. The nightmares won’t stop. He dies by my hand every time I close my eyes. How can She trust herself? She doesn’t want to hurt him. She likes him. She wants the comfort of his shoulder and arms again.”

Cullen’s eyes widened and asked “Is that what she feels?” The spirit nodded and when Cullen blinked he was gone. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived at Haven Cullen dove into his work. He had no choice. Iz had decided to completely disband the Templars and absorb them into the Inquisition under their name. They would be rebuilt and retrained to work alongside mages and take on their name again when they were ready. She had made quite a beautiful mess of the situation. Cullen was in the thick of the chaos now but he could see her beautiful dream for the future slowly unfolding before them. For a moment he allowed himself to hope it was all possible.

A week had passed and the Templars were ready to seal the Breach. Cullen was hesitant to mention this at the war table though because he could see the dark circles still plagued Iz’s fine features. Everyone around the table looked concerned for her. When she left early one meeting Lelliana and Josephine all but begged Cullen to see to her wellbeing. 

That night Cullen dressed in a warm but casual outfit. Not something he usually wore around the camp for training and work. He picked up a small bottle of mead from the tavern and a basket of food and walked to her cabin door. He knocked and there was no answer. He knocked again and heard muffled cries from inside. Concerned, he opened the door to find Iz curled in a ball sitting up in her bed crying softly. He set the basket down by the doorway, closed the door behind him and made his way toward her. She didn’t hear him come in, she was too numb to the world. But she felt him sit on the bed beside her and pull her into his arms. 

Islyandryl willingly went. Curled in his lap, his arms around her holding her tightly she cried softly into his arms. When the tears finally stopped he rubbed her back softly. And placed his mouth on her soft hair breathing in her scent greedily. She sighed into him, and thanked him softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

She shook her head no softly… but then in the silence said. “I watched you all die a thousand deaths. All of them, my fault. But worst of all, one by my own hand. I’m so afraid I'll fail you… all.” 

He hugged her tighter hearing her confession. “You’ve already done so much and given us so much hope. Even if failure came now. It would be worth the strides we’ve taken.”

He paused for a moment and considered the truth of his next thought… 

“And if it helps...I trust you…”

He swore she stopped breathing at his words. He couldn’t feel her little chest against his anymore. He looked down at her in concern and she was frozen staring at him. He smiled at her in return and she threw herself back into his embrace. 

He held her like that for a while. Until he heard her stomach growling fiercely. She didn’t complain though, just stayed there not letting go. He giggled softly. 

“You know I actually brought you some food if you’d like to share it with me?”

The excitement that crossed her face was what Cullen could only describe to himself as adorable. She bounced out of his arms, seeing the basket and bottle across the room to retrieve them. They spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor beside her hearth talking, eating, and smiling at each other warmly. Iz had even added some spices she had stashed in her small pantry to her meal and shared a bite with Cullen.

It was delicious, the elves dishes had so much more flavor than he was used to! He greedily took a second bite before realizing his mistake. The aftertaste was… hot. Maker! That burned his mouth! He felt his face grow hot and a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. Upon seeing this Iz let out a roar of laughter and quickly clamored for a cut of cheese for him to sooth his mouth with. As his eyes watered and he sought refuge in cheese, of all things, he chuckled too. Not only at his embarrassment but also because the sound of her genuine laughter made him happy and lighter somehow. 

Cullen awoke to a soft ray of light drifting through the window. He found himself sat on the floor propped against Islyandryl’s bed with her head in his lap sleeping soundly the blanket from the bed pulled down to drape over the both of them. His first reaction was to jump up in shame and fear of offending her. He quickly stalled himself against that course of action when he heard her soft snore and saw her peaceful face. He chuckled softly at the noise, and took the moment to really look at her, like he once had in an old guard tower along the coastline. The scar from that night had healed nicely but marred her beautiful tattoos on her face. He could see now that she was in her sleepwear, the tattoos he once wondered about did in fact travel across her body. It made him imagine where they might wander to as he saw the delicate branches detail the tops of her soft breasts and disappear below her shirt. He brushed her face with his thumb and felt her head snuggle into him further. His eyes bulged as he realized what this was doing to him. ‘Oh Maker please no’ he thought to himself. ‘Not now.’

Iz reached up and wrapped an arm around him sleepily. He giggled again and decided it was time to end this moment before He couldn’t control himself anymore around this gorgeous girl. 

He brushed her nose with the tip of his finger tickling her softly. Her face scrunched in discontent and she mumbled what sounded like an elven curse. 

“Izzy… We have to get up. What will people think if they see the commander of your army leaving your cabin like this?” 

She grumbled in his lap something that sounded like “It’s not my army damn you.”

She snuggled in deeper again and that when her eyes flashed open. She realized where she was and where her face was pressed against. And she shot up like a bolt of lightning, her face a gorgeous shade of red. 

“C...Cullen… You’re here… I thought… Creators I didn’t think you were really… why are you…”

Her stammering was cute. He never saw her flustered, she always saw his awkward moments. It was nice to see this intimidating fortress of a woman stutter a little. He chuckled loudly. 

“We had dinner and talked, that's all Izzy, I wanted to make sure you were all right…”

“What did you just call me? I’m fine!” She stood abruptly and brushed off her clothing. Realizing how little she was wearing stole behind the dressing wall as fast as possible and peeked around it at him. “I’m so sorry Commander. If you’re uncomfortable with this please excuse me.”

Cullen’s laughter only grew louder and she smiled at the sound of it. Though it was a laugh at her expense she was happy to hear it.

“Forgive me, us shems have an odd way with nicknames. I won’t use it again if you don’t want me to. And you needn’t be ashamed you were a perfect gentleman last night, nothing heinous occurred, Izzy.” He smiled at the last word, his lips curling.

“ You’re making fun of me?!” Islyandryl called out. “You dare mock the Herald of your Divine?!” 

At this his laugh faltered and then rebounded doubly over. Iz couldn’t take it anymore. She joined him bent over wheezing with laughter at their circumstance. It felt like the weight of the war had been lifted from their shoulders in a mere moment of happiness. 

She walked over to him kneeling in front of him. Her legs were exposed due to the small shorts she wore for nightwear, and Cullen could see the lines of her tattoos trailing up her legs as well… His laughter faltered and they stared for a moment. The heat and tension building between them. Iz looked at the man sitting before her. His broad shoulders, soft eyes, and the muscles she could finally see through his casual wear were the Creators’ gifts to the earth. They should never be hidden under layers of armor again if she had any say in it. She reached out and touched his cheek brushing the small scar above his lip as she did so. 

She said in a soft whisper. “You may call me whatever nickname you please. So long as they stay between us.” She chuckled softly. “The last thing I need is Varric to have more ammunition.”

He smiled at her voice and acceptance of his endearments. Closed his eyes and softly leaned into her hand on his cheek. 

Suddenly, they were jolted out of their reverie by a loud knock at the door.

Iron Bull called out. “ Hey boss, We need the Commander back if he’s in there! He’s late for a meeting!” 

Cullen’s eyes opened and face dropped. “Andraste’s Ass!” he gently lifted Iz to her feet and kissed her hand. Not taking his eyes off of hers. Before briskly walking toward the door and stealing one last glance back at her smiling at him before exiting. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iz stood in the emptiness of the room for a moment taking in what had just happened. She thought maybe they were just friends flirting and caring for one another… but the tension between them… and... He kissed her hand… She was also damn sure she felt his arousal before she thoroughly embarrassed herself and fled from him. Creators, he… liked her that way?

She had pushed down any thought of a human, never mind a once Templar feeling like that for her. She hadn’t allowed it to cross her mind more than a brief admiration of his figure. But now… after that encounter. She couldn’t not find him attractive. She wanted him now, at least now she openly admitted it to herself. She dressed in her armor, and prepared for the day. Today she would face her fears. She had the courage now. And the support she needed. 

She arrived on time for their war council. She looked directly at Cullen when she asked “Are the Templars ready?” He nodded a curt response, catching her determined look in her eye.

“Good, Have them ready by Early afternoon to march on the Breach, today we seal the hole in the sky.”


	4. Terror and Safety

Islyandryl stood before the Breach, Solas by her side, her friends battling the demons below. The Templars stood behind her kneeling reverently. She could feel the power they were emanating. It was overwhelming. The way Solas had described it, she would be the staff for the Templar’s magic. She would use her mark as a catalyst to seal the Breach once and for all so the Inquisition could work on healing and restoring order. 

Everything went as planned. She only felt a little weak following the ordeal. According to Cullen who guided her down the mountain pass, there were minimal wounded and not one casualty. 

Iz was overjoyed. Her fear was for nothing. 

The rest of the evening was spent rejoicing, the townspeople and soldiers partied in celebration. Cullen and Iz didn’t allow themselves to drink too much. They knew someone had to keep an eye on the rowdy ones and be accountable in the morning. Instead they sat on the steps of the chantry and smiled at their friends who passed by haughtily joking and celebrating. 

It was all that Iz had hoped for since waking with the mark on her hand.  
All was finally peaceful and happy, until the alarm sounded across the town.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were under attack from a massive force carrying no banner! An archdemon was flying overhead and torching the valley. Cullen was swept away to assess the situation. Iz quickly jumped to help everyone unable to fight into the Chantry for safety and then tended to the wounded who came to her from the guard posts. 

Cullen returned with Cassandra in tow to pull Iz away from her charges. The news that there was a slim chance of everyone surviving swept over her like a sickness. A chantry priest had suggested a tunnel that led out of the town and into the mountains. With no one on the battlefront the chantry would quickly be overrun and they would be discovered and slaughtered regardless. 

Iz ran through every possibility in her mind.

“Then we need a distraction, right?”

Cullen looked at her with fear in his eyes.

“Listen, they’re probably here because of the Breach and the mark anyway. Get everyone to safety now. I will take care of the rest.” 

Cassandra looked saddened by Islyandryl’s declaration, but Cullen, Cullen looked lost. 

Cassandra nodded and wheeled away to relay the plan. Iz turned to go to the trebuchets and enact her plan, when Cullen grabbed her by the wrist.

“Try, please… just try to make it out alive.” With a final look at her he turned away and began barking orders. When he dared to glance behind him again she was darting out the front gates and they were sealed and barricaded behind her. 

Now he had to focus on the rest of these people and getting them to safety.

Islyandryl ran toward the trebuchet and began cranking it toward the mountain side. She could see the massive invasion force in the valley below. From here they looked like… no they couldn't be… mages. They were. She saw the glowing staffs of a forward company and glared away from them turning the trebuchet faster and harder. She could feel her muscles straining. She lit the boulder with mage fire, and was about to release when a rumble came from behind her. The archdemon had landed practically on top of her…

From its back climbed down a mage. No ordinary mage, a being who was coated in red lyrium. He called himself the “Elder One.” This was the one the red templars had referred to at Therinfal Redoubt. She drew her blades readying herself for an attack. It came from where she least expected. Her hand flared in pain as the Elder One reached out for it with an artifact in hand, glowing the same green.

He wailed in anger when the mark did not fade from her hand and was about to deal a death blow when Iz dodged. His blow landed on the trebuchet line, firing it and causing a massive avalanche that engulfed the valley and swiftly tumbled toward Haven. Iz ran for her life. Tripping and falling into an old well that she hadn’t seen before her in her mad scramble. She clawed her way forward in the darkness and then heard the snow falling over her seconds later. She closed her eyes, curled up and waited for death. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He loved her. He had decided it the night before, as they laughed and talked with one another. He’d resolved to court her in due time. There was no rush once the Breach was sealed. They had sat on the steps of the chantry content, if just for a moment. He’d allowed himself to actually contemplate a life with someone, a future for himself and not for anyone else. It had been a selfish thought.

Now she was dead. She had to be. He’d seen the fireball and the avalanche that engulfed Haven as they fled through the mountains. The Inquisition was safe, Solas was leading them to a place he’d heard of hidden in the mountains. But she, Islyandryl, was lost.

Over the next few days. Cullen stole small rations and a scarf, some gloves, a hat from various remnants of the camp. He was ashamed in some respects, but left them tied to various trees as they traveled. If there was even the slightest chance she was alive, He wanted to give her the best chance of finding them and surviving. Of returning to him. 

“Come on Curly.” Cullen heard Varric call from behind him. “It’s time to head out.” Cullen turned without a word and headed toward the main group. 

Varric deposited the last of his ration into the bright red hat Cullen had left hanging from a tree branch.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iz was sore. All over... Yet again. 

She had a broken rib, a sprained ankle, and a fractured collarbone. She touched it with her other hand and winced sharply. Yes, fractured. The sudden movement of the wince made her head spin. Another concussion to add to her collection as well it seemed. 

She searched her pouch for anything that might help. She found a low tier healing potion, and poured half of it on to the open gash across her collar bone and swallowed the rest. 

How in Fen’Harel’s den was she still alive? 

She lit a mage fire in her hand and peered out in front of her. The well she’d fallen into had long dried up. And now she stood at the mouth of a tunnel of ice and stone. Well, she had two options, follow this and maybe survive, or sit here and wait to freeze to death. She chose the more noble option and pushed forward. Every step sent searing pains through her body. It was intensely cold now that night had fallen and the avalanche had swept through. Her blades had been lost in the tumble, but her short staff was securely in place by her side. 

She trudged out of the tunnel into a whirling blizzard. She could barely see ten feet in front of her. Yet she moved forward however slowly. Remarkably she stumbled upon a campfire eventually. It was long cold, but it meant someone had been there. She looked around for anything they might’ve left and found a hat dangling from a branch with food rations in it. It was a miracle she’d seen it with all the snow cover. But it’s bright red color gave it a clear distinction from the forest around it. 

She trudged ever on, finding a scarf tied to another tree, and a pair of gloves left on an abandoned wagon. 

Frostbite had set in on her nose, her eyelashes were frozen with droplets of ice, and her cheeks burned from wind rash. She had just reached a ridge in the mountain range and swore she spotted a fire in the distance when she fell. She couldn’t lift herself out of the snow. It engulfed her so fully, and the pain searing her body kept her trapped. She lifted her good arm. With an outstretched hand sent a prayer to the all-mother and cast a fire spell, shooting a flare into the air far above her head. It was a final effort for rescue that probably wouldn’t come, but she was nothing if not stubborn. She would at least die trying, for him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The camp was heavy with their defeat. No one spoke except to acquire the essentials they needed to treat their wounded and feed themselves. Cullen sat beside Varric, especially quiet. Waiting for the order to rally and move out again at first light. They’d found a small ledge in the valley that wasn’t being torn apart by the blizzard and it was a sweet frozen sanctuary from the storm. Cullen sat shivering, but not from the cold, from the empty feeling creeping inside him. 

Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw a flash of light on the mountain ridge. When he looked up in alarm, thinking the army had survived and followed them, he saw a lone mage fireball, flying straight up into the sky. 

It was a signal fire, it had to be. It couldn’t be her. He dared not to think. It was probably part of the attacking force stalking them. But there was a chance… however slight. As the ball of fire fell he noticed its color change… That’s when he knew it was her. 

Cullen grabbed Varric by the sleeve and rushed to find Bull and Cassandra. Not taking his eyes off the spot he saw the flare go up. He practically ran up the mountain toward the hill, his small party following behind this madman prepared for a fight not a rescue. 

When they reached the ridgeline, there was no army in sight. No one. His eyes frantically searched the snow to see a small red hat poking out.

“It’s her! Maker’s breath!”

He tumbled forward digging furiously through the snow, his friends joining him. He found her sweet soft face tired and cold, her breath there but shallow. He clutched her close to his chest and sobbed. They pried him onto his feet. Bull offered to take the small elf, but the look Cullen gave him could kill the Qunari where he stood, so he backed off. They raced back to camp and straight to Solas and Vivienne for healing.

In fear of overheating her body too fast and triggering a fever, Solas and Vivienne refused to use magic on anything but her apparent wounds. 

Cullen crestfallen knew the real danger was her body temperature. He looked at everyone but Vivienne and said “Out, all of you please… Vivienne please stay.”

He began to take off his jacket and strip down to his pants. He was chilled slightly, but far warmer than she would be. While he undressed Vivienne understood what he needed her for. She pried the frozen leather from the small girl and got her down to her tunic. Vivienne increased the heat of the fire beside them in the large tent and left them. Cullen pulled Iz close to him and wrapped blankets around them. He was sweating, but she was still ice cold, so he endured for her. 

He fell asleep like that, holding her tightly and praying the chant of light that she would come back to him.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Islyandryl woke up warm. Too warm, and far too comfortable from where she last recalled being. Snow did not burn like this. She opened her eyes to find herself draped in blankets beside a fire, wrapped in a sleeping Cullen’s arms. He had worry lines knitted across his forehead, and she reached up to trace them and felt little to no pain in her shoulder. There was no way that had healed overnight. Where was she? How long had it been?

Cullen’s face tightened at her touch and his grip around her did too. She winced a little as her body was still sore and whimpered lightly. This made him stir. As his eyes flickered open to meet hers relief crossed his face.

“Oh Maker.” He sobbed and dropped his head toward hers. 

“Cullen?” She called to him softly. Not sure if he was real or an imagined hallucination. 

He looked up at her with a tear rolling down his cheek and she gently wiped it away. 

“What’s going on?” 

He sighed softly. “You’ve been out for almost a week. I thought you wouldn’t wake because of the chill. I was so worried.”

He rested his lips on her hair and kissed her head softly taking in a draft of her scent. 

She smiled softly to herself at the kiss. Still distracted by him despite the world raging around her. 

He continued. “ We’re about two days away from a fortress Solas told us about. We’re hoping it’ll help us rebuild, or at least survive.” 

Iz listened but didn’t respond. Realizing his bare chest was pressed against her face. She nuzzled him softly and smiled. He chuckled nervously and stroked her hair and she fell back to sleep.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived at the place Solas referred to as Skyhold they were all amazed. It was massive, and in pristine condition for a forgotten fortress. This would be the perfect place to rebuild the inquisition. 

Cullen no longer slept holding Iz every night to keep her warm. This saddened her a bit, but she understood they couldn’t continue like that without gossip spreading. She was healing nicely and their forces were bouncing back. 

When Iz finally ventured out of her chamber into the courtyard people gawked and stared and praised her endlessly. She was lost amongst the confusion. Lelliana and Cassandra pulled her from the throngs of people to bestow the title of Inquisitor on her. She would be the leader of them all now. In action and in title. Iz was too far in to refuse. Following the title ceremony Iz wandered the ground exploring Skyhold. She found Bull drinking with his mercenary band and Varric in the pub, Cassandra had returned to the armory they had set up to supply troops. Lelliana had retreated to her crows nest and Dorian to the library. She couldn’t find the one person she wanted to see until she wandered into the lower courtyard and saw him. He had thrown a desk and chair at the foot of the stairs beside the infirmary. Iz stood and watched from the stairway on the other side of the courtyard. He barked orders at his men, flipped through paperwork, jotted notes, and when he had a spare moment, wandered toward the infirmary to lend a hand. 

He was a sight to behold. He finally caught her watching him when he stood to return to his desk. He acknowledged her with a sweet smile and a gesture to follow.

She approached him purposefully. Reveling in his looks and loving that she could now have a mental picture of what lay under all the layers of clothing. 

He held an arm out to her and began showing her his progress with the troops. Explaining that even more volunteers had poured in. She smiled at his enthusiasm and pride in his work. She was just stealing the courage to ask him to see her later when another steward interrupted them. He took the report and sighed. Apologizing that he had to get back to work. She nodded and began to walk away up the steps. Suddenly he grabbed her hand. She turned to face him concerned. The steward had disappeared and he was looking into her eyes with meaning. 

“I won’t let what happened at Haven happen again.” He declared.

Islyandryl touched his hand on hers gingerly, “ I know, and neither will I.” She smiled. And returned to her duties.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Six weeks had passed. Iz had taken down a dragon with Iron Bull, taken back a warden fortress in the Western Approach, and eliminated the Venatori in the Hissing Wastes. 

She was finally back in Skyhold, and her companions dismounted and immediately made for their quarters to bathe. She had the same idea in mind when she found a steward in front of her door barring her way.

“Inquisitor, Lady Lelliana requests your immediate presence at the War Council currently going on.”

Iz rolled her eyes and stomped off toward the war room. At the door she felt a sudden fear grip her. She had just spent 6 weeks fighting, with only a brief dip in a spring for cleansing. She smelled awful. Oh creators take her now.

She opened the door and joined the council. Standing opposite Cullen rather than beside him like usual. His eyebrows knitted in confusion as she took her place beside Josephine. 

“Maker!” She called out. “Inquisitor you smell awful!”

Strike me down now… any time Fen’Harel. 

She rolled her eyes and said “Yes, my dear I literally just returned. I would’ve liked to have freshened up for you but unfortunately the path to my room was blocked and my immediate presence was needed.” 

Josephine wrinkled her nose at Lelliana. “ Really Lil, I don’t think it is so necessary that we deny the inquisitor a bath. But seeing as you’re here.”

She launched into a lengthy update regarding our diplomatic standing and out invitation to the Winter Ball. Apparently a coveted invitation to “the game” where the Inquisition could play a major role in allying with the next major power in Orlais. 

Islyandryl sighed. “A ball? You do know the closest I’ve come to that is a ceremony around a fire with my clan right?” Josephine gasped at the concept. And reassured Iz that Dorian and Vivienne had already volunteered to show her all of the intricacies needed.

Iz was about to ask to retire when Lelliana spoke up. “There is another matter which I wanted to bring to your attention as soon as possible. Your clan has been located and we’ve received word that there have been organized attacks against them despite their best efforts to remain hidden. Your Keeper feels as though these are not ordinary bandits and is requesting our help. I’m prepared to dispatch some agents on your word to rectify the situation.” 

Islyandryl’s face grew increasingly serious as Lelliana spoke. “Of course, yes please do everything you can to keep my clan safe. They do not deserve to live in fear because of me.”

With that Lelliana concluded the council meeting and Iz rushed out of the room before Cullen could catch her looking and smelling the way she did. She swore he chuckled as she darted for her room. 

Once she climbed the stairs and entered the scent of Dawn Lotus and Embrium hit her. There was a steaming bath already drawn and a small note by a glass of mead. 

I know how hard these trips can be on the body. Please rest.  
Cullen.

He… knew. Of course he knew he was a soldier for years before this, and he… knows you. Better than anyone here does.

She stripped off her clothes and sank into the bath enjoying the warm water on her body. And thinking of her Commander, she blushed at the thought of his title in that context as she sank into a relaxed state.


	5. Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favorite chapter thus far.   
> Content warning: Grief, depression, mental health topics/descriptions

Iz’s life continued forward for the next month full of missions of relief for refugees and tracking leads on those who attacked Haven. They’d discovered thus far the Elder One, Corypheus, had an underling named Calpernia. She was responsible for the Grey Warden corruption in the Western Approach, and Corypheus was feeding off the chaos to add to his army. To what end was still unknown. 

Islyandryl, had woken up feeling refreshed the day after returning from a trip and felt like she needed to let off some steam. She wandered out onto her balcony in her tunic and tight cotton leggings and did some basic stretching to release the tension that had built up in her muscles recently. She completed a few rounds of breathing and stretching exercises that she’d learned among the Dalish. When the urge to move hadn’t shaken from her still, she looked out over Skyhold and spotted the training grounds and smiled to herself.

She wandered to Cullen’s tower where he’d set up his office and bedroom just upstairs. She found him tearing through reports and working diligently.

“Hey there” She said as she entered the room.

He glanced up and smiled genuinely happy to see her. Their clear affection for each other had not progressed past a chaste kiss anywhere but their lips and the occasional snuggle when no one was looking. 

“I need to let off some steam. Would you care to join me in the training grounds?”

He grinned at the challenge and gleefully accepted. Rambling something about wanting to show Iz better techniques about attacking fully armored warriors. All he was really thinking about was how he’d seen her stretching that morning as he’d walked the ramparts. He’d dropped his papers when he’d seen her lithe body flex and bend like that. Some of them had blown into the courtyard below and he’d spent the next hour tracking them down. 

They arrived in the training grounds and found a quiet corner. He restricted her to her daggers and he to his sword and shield. And they began.

She flung herself to the side as he attempted to knock her off balance with his shield. He was not going easy on her and it was apparent from the beginning. Alright then, she wouldn’t either. She hooked his ankle as he sped past, trying to knock him off balance, unsuccessfully. However, lining herself up perfectly for an attack to his unguarded back. She leapt up and poised to attack. At the last second he dodged and she landed on her knees hard, piercing dirt. She bounded up and recovered quickly dodging his first slash and catching the second with a dagger. She smirked at him through crossed blades. 

They had no clue their little show was gaining an audience. The Commander never sparred like this. He could only be seen doing these moves in the heat of battle which was rare in his current position. For someone to keep pace was amazing. The recruits had to see this. Even Cassandra lingered at the back of the crowd smirking at the fun they were having. 

Cullen grasped his shield and broke their contact by bashing it through their interlocked blades. Metal scratching against metal rang through their ears. Iz leaped back and crouched into a ready position. As Cullen readied for another charge instead of leaping at him she leapt back, and as she did let loose a small throwing knife she had concealed in her blouse. Startled, he lifted his shield to protect his face as the knife pinged off. 

“Iz! That was close!” he called to her. 

She giggled merrily “Are you startled by my aim or where I conceal my daggers Commander?” 

Cullen blushed brightly and advanced again. Iz, this time side stepped, dropping caltrops for him to step on and flanked him gracefully as if in a dance. Cullen froze barely shy of impaling his foot on one of the sharp traps. Sighing he heard her approaching from behind and simply slid his shield up over his head and into its back guard. Now his back was armored and he was wielding his sword with two hands. The stakes just got that much higher. Iz’s primary point of attack was gone. 

She raced toward him, despite his side step and obvious awareness of her approach. He thought she would leap and slash, but instead she dove between his legs, his stance a little too wide to be battling a slight elf like her. She twisted at the last moment sending him toppling to the ground. He quickly rolled over but couldn’t recover fast enough. She was on top of him, heaving, dagger at his throat. She swore she saw a flash of desire cross his eyes as he heaved with exertion under her.

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Maker help him. She was on top of him. Breathing heavily like that. He couldn’t help but notice her soft breasts rising and falling. She looked gorgeous, her hair had grown out since he first met her; it was now in a short delicate curly cut framing her face perfectly. Sweat dripped down her neck and he ached to kiss the line where it traced down her throat.

He felt himself stir and blushed deeply, thanking the armorer for his custom designs which shielded his manhood from not only slashes but apparently also embarrassment at being aroused by being pinned by this beautiful creature. 

Suddenly they were broken from their moment with whoops and hollers from recruits who had gathered to watch. They both blushed anxiously and frantically stood beside each other. Excusing themselves from the crowd who were fascinated by the display. They giggled and laughed their way up the battlements and back to Cullen’s office. There, Iz sat on his desk as he leaned against her wantonly, stroking her hair away from her face. She swore he was about to lean in and kiss her when a steward coughed in the doorway. Iz tried to stand but he held her in place with a gentle nudge. He walked over to the steward with the looming intimidation she knew all too well. 

She could see the steward gulp. As he stuttered “a...apologies sir, I’ll come back later,” and they all but ran from the room.

Iz giggled at the sight and Cullen returned his attention to her, his gaze softening. He quickly and passionately dove into her for a kiss like no other. He held her in place by the small of her back, her seated on his desk legs wrapped around him. His other hand trailed to her face, clutching her gently to him. One of her hands was woven into his damp curls and the other grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt. They kissed deeply for a long time. Breaking apart only to gasp for air. Iz felt herself grow excited, She had not been with anyone in a long time, and relished the thought of sharing that level of intimacy with Cullen. 

He pulled away all too soon for her. Running his hand through his hair anxiously. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long. Probably since I first met you.” 

Her eyes flashed with realization at his words. He had fallen for her a long time ago. When he thought they’d never see each other again. She couldn’t lie to herself and say she wasn't attracted to him, even then. 

“Ma vhenan…” She whispered to him and pulled him in for another kiss, this time softer and far more tender than the first. 

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Cullen spent the day pacing the war room. It had been 8 weeks since he’d seen Iz. The Winter Ball was around the corner and many things had happened since she was last in Skyhold. Cullen gripped the table as another withdrawal wracked his body. He should’ve told her about this sooner. The withdrawals had been getting worse. He’d told Cassandra to look out for signs he couldn’t handle his position anymore. But when he went to her she denied him, both lyrium and resignation. On top of it there were reports she needed to see.

He knew right now she was relaxing in the bath he had drawn for her. He’d left her another note even. 

Ma Vhenan… What does that mean?

She smiled as she read the paper again and placed her hand over her heart.

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Clean and relaxed after weeks of successful travel and slaughtering Venatori and any other allied with Corypheus, Iz wandered into the War Room refreshed and ready. Her smile quickly faded at the sight of Cullen. He looked ill, skin pale and beaded with sweat. His eyes even seemed bloodshot and tinged yellow. She would drag him to her room kicking and screaming following this meeting and dote on him like he always did on her. 

The faces of others in the room were drawn as well though. Lelliana began.

“We have a few serious matters to discuss, Inquisitor. First, I am required to tell you that Commander Cullen has requested to resign from his post. Cassandra, I, and Josephine vehemently protest this request.”

A shock shook Islyandryl to her core. What was wrong? She looked at him for explanation. 

Cullen wavered, gripping the table harder. “I am struggling to maintain my duties as Commander and endure the Lyrium withdrawals. I feel that for the safety of all those in Skyhold and the Inquisition as a whole it is best that I resign.”

Her mouth gaped open. And then her countenance hardened. An edge creeped into her voice. “Request denied Commander. Learn to delegate and take some R&R.” 

She returned her gaze to Lelliana, who with the rest of the table stared dumbstruck at her response. Lelliana of all people stuttered into the next update… 

“The matter of your clan…” 

Iz’s face lit up with excitement to hear news of them. 

“My agents arrived too late I’m afraid… when they came upon your clan’s encampment… everyone was slaughtered… We are working to uncover who was behind these attacks and hold them accountable.”

Now Iz, swayed and clung to the table for support. She made eye contact with a sad and worn Cullen beside her and gripped his hand on the table edge. 

Never had they displayed affection at the War Council… but now… now was an exception. 

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Cullen found himself sitting on the edge of Islyandryl’s bed. With her instruction, servants drew a hot bath and fetched various herbs and foods from the kitchen. He stared at her in confusion as she worked to take off the little armor he wore and his many layers. She helped him strip down to his pants and then lightly kissed his forehead. 

Iz turned her back as Cullen stripped and got into the warm bath. It felt glorious on his sore body, but worsened his dizziness substantially. She wandered over to the small table the servants had set out with various items. She brought him a glass of cold water and a small tray of snacks that rested perfectly across the width of the tub. Again she kissed his forehead lightly and walked back to the table. She seemed to be in a delirium, going through the motions of caring for him, quietly processing everything she’d been told today. He did not try to speak to her, he did not have the energy and he knew she didn’t either. So they tended to each other in silence. 

Islyandryl focused on grinding the herbs she’d asked for from the kitchen and desperately tried to process that her clan was gone, and Cullen wanted to leave her. She sighed deeply as she mixed the ground herbs with water to create a salve. It smelled strongly of peppermint and cardamom. But it contained blood lotus to draw out any infection so while it smelled delightful, looked vaguely like caked blood. 

Islyandryl walked up to Cullen who was watching her intensely as she sat beside the tub and touched his face tenderly looking into his bloodshot eyes. 

She held the poultice in front of her and cast a healing spell over it, infusing it with magic. Cullen’s eyes still widened when he saw her use magic, especially now so close to him, and knowing the poultice was for him. But without objection he let her lather the poultice on his chest and back. It smelled heavenly and honestly helped with the dizziness and headache almost immediately. 

“You’ll stay here with me until this passes and you’re feeling better.” She said quietly, staring at the open balcony. 

He didn’t object, it was clear it wasn’t a question. 

She looked him in the eyes, tears welling. 

“Do you really want to leave?”

His eyes widened and mouth dropped open. Oh no. He was misunderstood, gravely so. She thought he meant to leave her, and here she was nursing him regardless.

“Maker, no.” He breathed. 

He saw her visibly relax in front of him.

“I meant only to step down from official duties.”

She shook her head. “You can get through this. It’s what you want still right? To be free of the Lyrium?”

He nodded slowly. “Then you’ll get there. You’ll just need some support from those around you. There’s no shame in that Commander.” 

Her confidence in him. Truly never ebbed. She thought he was abandoning her not seconds prior, and she still stood beside him ready to fight even the demons she couldn’t see and pierce with a sword. ‘Maker, she’s perfect.’

Cullen couldn’t stand the distance a moment longer. He reached for her hand closest to him and clasped it in his at the surface of the water. 

“What does ‘Ma vhenan’ mean?”

She looked at him with stony eyes far off in another land. 

“My Heart.”

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Cullen lay holding his Izzy close. He’d never stayed in her bed before. Josephine truly spared no expense on her. He was grateful. She deserved it all and more. He felt better after the bath and mystery poultice. When he and Iz laid down to sleep he intended to tell her he loved her. But before he had the chance she was sound asleep, snoring softly.

But now she twitched and whimpered in her sleep. She was definitely having a nightmare. Cullen knew all too well what they looked like. He gently held her and whispered encouragement. He’d once been told by his sister as a small child never to wake a person from their nightmare. You rob them of their chance to face their fears. So now Cullen lay there hoping his words were heard and gave her strength to fight off the demons he could not face for her. 

Cullen resolved to tell her how he felt soon enough. But for now he would hold her close and give them both time to heal. 

The morning light streamed through the open balcony. It was bright, too bright for Iz, she turned over, throwing a pillow over her head and burrowing deeper into the blankets around her. Cullen wasn’t in bed with her anymore, she could feel his absence. But the sweet warm quiet of the tiny fortress she’d created gave her so much comfort. She lay there and allowed her mind to drift in and out of sleep and in and out of daydreaming. Her mind wandered aimlessly from thought to thought. As if a Dragonfly dancing through the air from leaf to leaf. 

She would settle her tired soul amongst her clan, surrounded by the warmth and love of her people. Filled with the memories of ceremonies she held dear and people she held even closer. 

Memory would flit to the thought of what had happened to them. She pictured her favorite spot along the Wounded Coast, drenched in the blood of elves. The sacred items of her people looted and sold to the highest bidder in the Kirkwall Darktown markets. 

She shivered but allowed herself the time to really see the truth of their death in her mind. 

With weighted wings she landed on the thought of Cullen. She didn’t know if it was true sleep or a deep daydream she was in now. But she was still, her breathing even, and calm. A faint smile played at the corner or her lips as she thought of the touch of his skin. Him allowing her to care for him in such a tender intimate way, with no shame. They way he looked at her and reached out for her in the smallest of gestures to reassure and strengthen her. She liked that he didn’t assume she needed him, or infantilize her because she was an Elf or a woman. He was simply there when the world became too much to face.

She felt the bedside move slightly, and her eyebrows knit together. No, she was enjoying this. She was processing everything. She curled up tighter begging for the darkness of her fortress to stay. 

Without a word she felt Cullen slip under the covers with her. The light that shone through was unbearable but gone in an instant. He cradled her from behind. Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. Then they just lie there. 

She couldn’t flit from memory to memory anymore. He was too grounding. But Creators this was nice. Feeling him physically close to her, holding her in such an intimate and caring way. It dragged her away from her fantasies, morbid and cheerful. Her heart ached as it lingered in the present. The dragonfly laid down on a final leaf and became a stone monument to reality. 

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Cullen could tell she was awake, or at least drifting in and out of sleep. She’d tossed the blankets over her head and hidden from the light of the morning. He smiled faintly to himself. Here he was staring at the most powerful woman he’d ever met, the leader of multiple armies, and beacon of faith and peace. Yet she was hiding from the world who worshipped her. Under a blanket and a down pillow of all things. He chuckled lightly to himself.

He had called for breakfast, lunch at this point honestly and set it out on the balcony. He’d also found a chess board among the books in a small library behind her desk. He decided it would be a fun pastime. He set it out beside their food in case she agreed to play him. Mia had taught him well, he would certainly win at this game unlike their spar the other day.

She still hadn’t moved from her little fortress. It had been almost 2 hours. He started to worry. Rather than tear her from her dreams he simply crawled back into bed and infiltrated her tiny castle and held her close to him. 

Eventually, she stirred, flinging the pillow and blankets from their faces and turned to look at Cullen. He was extremely grateful, it had become so warm under there and he was starting to break a sweat. He smiled softly at her as he saw her sleepy eyes, wrinkled pink lines across her beautiful face from where she’d pressed her head into the pillows. Her hair was a glorious frizzy mess around her. A few stray curly hairs popping out and blocking her clear view of him. He brushed them away from her face softly. 

“We don’t need to face the world today my dear. Josephine sent word that they will handle everything for a short while.” 

The relief that washed over her face was evident. Like her true fears hadn’t been the ones plaguing her dreams but rather just outside the door. His brow wrinkled at the thought. Was she tired of being strong? Did she need to step away from her role? Maker, he hadn't considered that. Why hadn’t he?

Islyandryl sat up to take in the room and the warm glow of midday. She spotted the balcony set up and her stomach growled. She blushed softly looking at Cullen. Who simply chuckled at her. They got up wordlessly and made their way out onto the balcony. They were still in their sleep clothes. Her, a light tunic and tight soft leggings, him breeches and no shirt. He grabbed a small blanket on his way out the door and wrapped it around his shoulders to keep off the icy mountain wind. 

They sat and ate, and slowly they opened up to one another. Laughing and joking about Varric’s stories, Lelliana’s strange antics, and Josephine's reactions to literally anything Iron Bull said. 

“I’m sorry if I was too harsh at your request yesterday.” she said suddenly.

His eyes widened and he looked at her intently. Was she referring to the War Council?

She stuttered in his silence. “I… mean… when you asked to resign…”

Ah, yes indeed she was. He shook his head and smiled softly.

“You weren’t wrong Izzy.” 

She smirked at the sound of the human nickname he’d given her. He’d done a good job of keeping that one between them. 

He continued. “I’ve been placed in leadership roles for a long time. This is the first time I’m doing it without the aid of Lyrium and I’m amongst mages e...everyday.” He stuttered as he realized what he was saying aloud. He continued quickly before she could question it. “I need to learn how to delegate correctly. And well, my body does need rest. I can’t expect it to function the same without the Lyrium.”

She just nodded softly, and reached for his hand on the table. 

“You’re still mistrustful of mages?” She asked gently.

He sighed and rubbed his head with his free hand. Trying to pull the thoughts together into words. How could he explain that it wasn’t so much inane mistrust without meaning anymore. He’d confronted the fact that it was sheer terror of what they were capable of if they were bad people. 

“Only those who give me reason to mistrust them.” He decided on saying to her. There, that would clarify without forcing him to admit his fears aloud. She had enough to deal with right now. 

“Do you feel more vulnerable without your templar powers?” she asked next. He stammered and looked at her… how did she… how could she know him so well? 

He nodded slowly. She stood and sat in his lap wrapping her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. The Dawn Lotus had faded but it still lingered in her hair. When he opened his eyes there was a magical barrier around them. Radiating a soft indigo light. He gasped at the beauty of it from within the barrier. He’d only ever seen them from the outside, keeping him away. But here safe with her he saw the mesmerizing reflections of the world around them like he was peering through warped stained glass. 

Protecting and rebuilding the broken world they lived in was exhausting, and lonely. At least here, with her. They protected each other, it made the ordeal, just a little less lonesome. For the first time in his life, Cullen felt safe near a mage, one actively casting magic, unguided by a staff. 

Cullen dressed and wandered to his tower for a few of his things. The reports on his desk seemed to be piling and he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. Iron Bull and Lelliana said they had it under control. He walked away with a small bag of things and wandered back toward Izzy’s room. He heard laughter inside and loud gossiping. What in Creation was going on? Who was bursting their bubble? 

He approached the door and heard Dorian inside. 

“Checkmate again! My dear you really are horrible at this game. I’m not sure I trust you with battle plans anymore.”

He heard her scoff at him indignantly and he smirked to himself. He was about to reach for the door when he heard what Dorian said next.

“So, spill. How is our dear Commander in bed? You’ve spent how many nights with him? Don’t think I haven’t seen you sneaking out to the ramparts late at night to visit him on occassion.”

His eyes widened and he heard Izzy choke on her drink. 

“W...what do you mean ‘in bed’? W...we sleep.”

“Tsk tsk tsk. My dear you mean neither of you have taken the initiative to fuck? The tension there is clear as day.” 

Alright that was enough. He pushed the door open and dropped his bag loudly on the couch by the entrance. 

Dorian smirk grew even larger as he sipped a glass of wine delicately. Iz’s face was bright red and she couldn’t meet either of them in the eyes. 

“Dorian, nice to see you! I see you’re playing a round of chess! Mind if I cut in? I’d love to see what our Inquisitor is capable of.”

Dorian chuckled and lifted his hands in defense. “Of course Commander she’s all yours.” he winked slyly at Iz as he strode from the room.

The awkward silence that stretched between them was quite unbearable as he set the chess board again. 

He cleared his throat and made his first move. Very quickly he realized what Dorian had meant. She was hopeless at this game. He could’ve won in three turns if he really wanted to. But he could see her face knitted in concentration completely distracted from the conversation with Dorian. It was too cute to end so soon so he drew out the game as long as he could. Finally an hour later she won. He had to point out a few moves to her and intentionally put himself in danger. But the look of satisfaction on her face was worth it. She jabbed at him gently. 

“You let me win didn’t you?”

With feigned shock and disgust he said “Inquisitor I would never dream of deceiving you!” 

She giggled at that. And they laughed and talked and ate their fill for the remainder of the day. 

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For the next few days the Council worked doubly hard. They could see that two of their most vital members needed a moment to breath and recover. A few days of rest was the least they could do for them. Varric, Vivienne, Dorian, and even Cole were dragged into Council meetings to offer various opinions on the matters at hand. They had been surprisingly helpful. It made Cassandra and Lelliana pause and appreciate the strange group of allies they’d collected and the Inquisitor held close. Vivienne and Dorian were a masterwork together to everyone’s astonishment. Providing detailed accounts and viewpoints on the political landscape of the game. Varric, gave helpful viewpoints on stumbling blocks the past had taught him to avoid. Like maybe be cautious around someone who claims to have blood magic under control or is possessed by a spirit or demon. 

Cole had cocked his head at this and asked “what if someone simply is a spirit?” 

Varric had chuckled at this and said “you got me there kid.”

By the time the Inquisitor and Commander joined the next Council they were fully prepared answers in hand. The Ball had been outlined perfectly. What they would wear, who they would approach for favor, how they would overcome the issue of a Dalish leading the Inquisition. All Iz had to do was take the pros and cons of each party in the civil war in Orlais and decide who to support during the peace talks. Oh and learn how to dance from Dorian, and try on the floor length gown Vivienne had picked out. Creators she wasn’t ready for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I killed off my clan the first couple of play throughs of this game. It felt strange the way the game shrugged it off, but I thought about it and decided maybe the Inquisitor in a way shrugged it off. They didn't have a full breakdown, crying and such, but they definitely hid away for a while to process their grief. Let me know what you think.


	6. The Winter Ball

Islyandryl woke the morning of the Winter Ball genuinely nervous for the day. Dorian had been practicing with her tirelessly. Cullen had moved back to his quarters once he had recovered from the physical hurdle he faced from Lyrium withdrawals and returned to his duties shortly after. She missed sleeping with him at night and hiding away from the world with him. 

He was pleasantly surprised to find that the pile of paperwork on his desk was in fact a pile of completed reports with diligent notes added to each of them by Bull’s right hand man Krem. If that man ever wanted to leave the mercenary life Cullen would have to be sure he was first in line to snatch him for the Inquisition. 

Cullen was feeling worlds better since Izzy had nursed him back to health. He felt clear headed and happy for the first time, in, well ever. He looked for her diligently that morning, only to find her standing on the ramparts leaning out and looking at the skyline of the morning beside the main watch tower. He slowly made his way toward her trying not to disturb her reverie. 

She smiled when she saw him appear at her side. Stepping closer so that their hands touched resting on the wall. He turned to her and returned her smile gently brushing the hair from her face.

“Thank you Ma veheran” he said quietly into her ear as they drew closer.

She looked up at him confused.

“For what?”

“For believing in me. I feel worlds better now. I owe it to the strength you lent me.” He saw her blush under her thick eyelashes. 

“So you’re not having withdrawals anymore?”

“I think the worst of it has passed, I can think clearly, and the nightmares don’t plague me as bad.”

She glanced at him anxiously. “You have nightmares?”

He nodded. 

“I didn’t know that… I’m proud of you Cullen. And… well thank you as well for caring for me.”

He softly kissed the top of her head and she closed her eyes in contentment. Creators she was falling in love with this man, and it was terrifyingly wonderful. 

He pulled away and smirked as he heard Josephine and Dorian calling for her below. “Ah, The Inquisitor’s work is never done.” A look of horror crossed her face as she realized she’d been spotted.

“Hide me!”

His startled expression burst into uncontrollable laughter as this domineering woman he admired beyond word, a literal dragon slayer, tucked herself behind his broad frame as if that would shield her from the approaching pair. 

Josephine smiled at the sight and Dorian cackled loudly. “My dear don’t fret you’ll be wonderful!” He craned his neck around Cullen to see the Inquisitor huddled in a ball staring up at them like a small child. 

“The dress is not that bad, come on dear it's time to get ready” Josephine chided.

She slowly raised herself and surrendered to Dorian’s outstretched hand. Cullen chuckled again as he saw her glance back at him in desperation as they swept her away toward the main tower. 

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Cullen, Lelliana, and Josephine were stationed inside the palace ballroom, mingling among guests and assuring the area was secure. Varric and Vivienne would be stationed in the entryway, and Dorian in the Garden. Everyone had their posts. Cassandra was to stay beside the Inquisitor’s side and depart only to relay messages and cover entrances and exits. Cullen was proud of the job he and Lelliana had done with physical security for the night. No harm was going to come to her tonight if he had anything to say about it. 

He eagerly awaited her entrance into the ballroom and presentation alongside the duke. When he saw her… his entire world stopped.

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Josephine, damn you. Iz thought to herself as she struggled in the delicate dress she donned. It was a Dark green, almost black, and paired well with her eyes she had to admit. But the plunging neckline revealed far more of her tattoos than she had ever imagined doing in public. Delicate crystals, that glowed softly from magic Dorian had touched them with, decorated the edge of the neckline and cuffs of her sleeves. 

“Just a little sparkle my dear.” He’d said as he laid the enchantment over her gown at the last moment before entering the ballroom. 

As she entered her face peaked red. There were so many eyes on her, and she was dressed so feminine. It wasn’t something she was not accustomed to at all. Fear gripped her until she caught his stare from across the room. Those golden eyes radiated toward her pulling her in like the depths of the ocean. He was dressed impeccably. A red tunic with yellow and blue accents. The colors of the inquisition, very appropriate for its military commander. The part she liked the most was the visible strength of his shoulders and muscles straining slightly against the fabric as he moved. She wanted to disrobe him with her eyes and devour him then and there. But they were announcing her name and it was show time!

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Cullen stared at the elven goddess before him, glimmering in the candlelight of the ballroom. She looked nervous, but it didn’t detract from her beauty at all. She came up to him after about an hour had passed. Leliana had informed him that they’d made significant strides in uncovering the threats of the game that night thanks to her help. He had no clue how she’d managed to do so much while still looking flawless in that gown. 

He smiled delicately at her as she was all business despite looking anything but. She informed him of their agreement to reconcile Braila as an ally of Empress Celine and uncover the Duke’s obvious efforts to assassinate the empress tonight. Cullen found himself disappointed in the Duke. He was the better military choice, but to make such obvious blunders was unforgivable and he sided quickly with Islyandryl’s plans. 

“So? What do you think?” she asked.

Cullen stammered and cleared his throat. She smirked and repeated her question.

“Duchess Florianne danced with me and all but threatened the Inquisition and our position in Orlais. She’s up to something, I can feel it but I can’t figure out what. What’s your opinion of her? Have you heard anything?”

He recovered quickly and launched into business discussions with her regarding the situation. She smiled and thanked him for his help. She turned to walk away from him and paused. 

“Commander, may I have the next dance?”

“No, my lady, my apologies.” He responded automatically. He’d been asked so many times that night, it had become second nature to respond that way. But then he looked at her face crestfallen.

“I… uh… I’m sorry, I’ve been answering that all night and I didn’t think. In truth I’m a horrendous dancer. I fear I would mar all of the hard work you’ve put in if we were seen blundering on the dancefloor.”

Her smile returned softly and she giggled at the thought. “Are you not enjoying the attention, Commander?” 

He scowled jokingly at her. “Not at all Izzy, unless it’s from a particular party, with whom I'm enraptured.” 

She blushed brightly at the sound of her nickname and his confession. Just then her heart dropped.

“Ho HOOOO! That’s a good nickname Curly! I like that one!” Varric’s voice boomed behind them. The look of fear and panic that crossed their faces was cartoonish and only made Varric cackle louder. 

Cullen tensed “What are you doing away from your post Varric?” he hissed quietly.

Varric raised his hands defensively and wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. “Cool your jets Curly, I'm just here to fetch dear Izzy.” 

Izzy saw Cullen mouth “I’m sorry” as she whipped around, grabbed the dwarf by the arm harshly and stormed out of the ballroom with as much grace as she could muster. 

“Varric I swear on Fen’Harel’s den I will send you to his maw if you breathe of word of that nickname to anyone.” 

He cackled again once inside the entryway. “I didn’t understand that curse one bit, but I hear you. That's for you and lover boy only.” 

Her blush deepened before centering herself and asking what was so urgent he came to find her. 

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The last place the Inquisition had expected to find traces of Corypheus and Calpernia was among the game of the Winter Ball. The Inquisitor had barely gotten out of a scrap with Venatori agents in time to save the Empress and confront the Duchess. She was dangerous clearly, and completely devoted to sewing chaos in Corypheus’ name. 

Islyandryl leaned against the rail of one of the palace balconies off the ballroom as she recalled hiking her dress up, and tucking the train into her corset to make it shorter and more functional. She’d gained enough mobility just in time to catch the Duchess pulling a blade on the Empress. Iz had leapt forward, no time to pull a dagger from one of the guards or even her stocking. She conjured a blade of flame that she heard sizzle and burn as she sliced open Florrianne’s throat behind the Empress. The mage fire burned so hot it closed the vessels as quickly as it tore the life from her. It was gruesome, but the elegant Lady Celine bowed to her and complimented her remarkable skill in bloodless solutions. 

She sighed realizing this night went far better than she had anticipated. She had performed above and beyond the Council’s expectations. Though she had been chastised for the treatment of her gown by Josephine multiple times for the rest of the evening.

Permanent wrinkles marred the front of the delicate satin. Iz giggled to herself realizing she preferred the texture it gained. 

She heard a man clear his throat behind her and she turned to see Cullen standing awkwardly before her.

She smiled that smile at him. The one that melted his heart and made it damn near impossible for him to form words. He was the Commander of a massive force, yet this woman reduced him to a stumbling mess, and he loved it.

He reached out his hand to her and bowed slightly, “My Lady Inquisitor, may I have this dance?”

Her soft smile gleamed brighter than the crystals along her dress and she reached for his hand. 

The music of the piano and violins in the ballroom gently wafted outside as they began to slowly turn together. He was a tad clumsy, but so was she, and it just meant they had to hold each other closer and move slower, enjoying the moment even more.

She loved being held by him like this. She’d never felt more powerful and safe than when she was beside him. 

Cullen nuzzled her hair and drank in the sweet scent that was oh so familiar now. 

The music faded and another song began, but they kept turning slowly and gently in each other's arms. 

Cullen’s low measured and husky voice whispered softly in her ear. “I’m falling in love with you Islyandryl Lavellan.” 

Iz’s heart stopped, her mind swam through an ocean of feeling, and her body kept turning with the music in his arms. She fell into his eyes and lost herself in their bright cleansing light. Islyandryl reached up to his face with her hand. Gathering herself for the eye of the storm. She kissed him wholeheartedly, pouring her entire being into him. She could hear the music swell around them, or was that something else? 

“I’m in love with you Cullen, I have been for sometime.” The relief that washed over his face made her giggle lightly. 

Varric would retell the tale of that night with much embellishment and drama. But the one thing he kept true was their encounter. Which he witnessed watching from across through the doorway to the balcony. He saw the magical stained glass that enveloped them as they danced, and grew brighter and larger as they spoke. He always said it had to be just unbelievable enough to make a good story. Even he wouldn’t have believed this, had he not witnessed it with his own eyes.


	7. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: SMUT! SEXY TIME! GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS
> 
> 18+ please!

It was the morning after the ball. Islyandryl crept quietly away from a soundly sleeping Cullen, and slipped down to his office from his bedroom. They’d held each other all night and giggled about the night's events. Orlesians sure knew how to throw a party. It was completely innocent enough, but now it was morning. Light had just started to peek through the windows and his day was going to start soon. The Inquisitor couldn’t be seen leaving the Commander of the military’s bedroom in last night's clothes! She heard him stir upstairs and winced as she heard him calling for her. She wanted to crawl back into bed and kiss him so badly. But she really couldn’t be seen here like this. She really wanted to do far more than kiss him actually. Dancing with him in that outfit and sleeping on his bare chest last night was not helping her resolve. Nor was the present she felt bumping against her as they spooned this morning. Creators, she needed to get out of here. 

Iz slipped the door open and quietly turned only to stop short, her eyes grew wide, and mouth dropped open. The entire Chargers mercenary band, led by Krem and Iron Bull were standing in the doorway gaping. 

“Fenehdis!” She hissed through clenched jaw. Krem and a couple of the chargers dared to giggle maniacally at her. She stood there in a crumpled satin dress, corset in hand, hair mussed up. She probably looked ridiculous and honestly couldn’t blame them. 

Iron Bull struggled to pull his face into a wry grin. He wanted to burst into tears from laughter at the Inquisitor standing before him. He had too much respect for her though. That didn’t mean he was going to let this go at all though.

He clapped his large hand on the Inquisitor’s back as she scrambled by and guffawed loudly. “Hey there Boss! I’m sure Krem would love to volunteer to carry you back and cover up this little encounter.” Iz’s blush deepened so much she swore her ears were completely cherry red. She had told Bull drunkenly after a battle that she’d had partners of all genders before and found Krem wildly attractive. The Dalish didn’t care about the physics of sex, just that people found love, connection, and enjoyment from their relationships. Krem had apparently discovered this, and not knowing her affections for Cullen had pursued her shamelessly! Krem’s face also blanched and he reached over to smash the side of Bull’s heavily armored shoulder. 

“Man, shut up boss!” he shouted, as the chargers roared in laughter. Directing their aim at him instead. Bull winked as she fled through the open passageway at the far end of the rampart and flitted through the open doorway.

No one else caught her, thank the All-mother. She was never going to live this down. Then she gasped internally. Dorian and Varric would find out surely. She groaned and slid to the floor rolling her eyes at the thought of being mercilessly pestered by them till she spilled.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her steward entered a short while later with the day’s missives. She had a meeting with Josephine and the new agent from the Orlesian court Empress Celine had sent, a meeting with Cassandra regarding the armory and supplies, and one with Lelliana in her crow’s nest all before midday. Iz dressed for the day, wiping her face clean of last night’s makeup, and set to work. 

She joined Josephine and a slender, rather attractive mage in the gardens. She introduced herself as Morrigan, and quickly offered all of her knowledge regarding Corypheus and the world of Deep Magics. Islyandryl, as a mage herself, was grateful to have another expert on the subject in Skyhold. Solas was immensely helpful, but more than one mind working at his caliber could not hurt their efforts. 

She was assigned to work with him to uncover Corypheus’ next move. The Ball was only his most recent attempt to sew chaos, and ‘make himself a god.’ They needed to get in front of him this time. Be ready to act or they would just keep chasing his trail and he would inevitably win. 

The rest of her morning flew by, the armory was doing well and they had so many skilled smiths who had offered their aid that there wasn’t enough material to dispense to them fast enough. Lelliana only brought tidings of silence, all trails to track her clan’s murderers had fallen silent. What Lelliana had failed to mention to Iz, was Cullen’s uproar about this news. He had asked her to keep him apprised of any updates on the situation. She suspected he intended to accompany the squad on mission should they ever locate the murderers. 

Iz sat in the pub with Solas enjoying a meal with her friend. Solas was a joy to be around. She had learned so much from his stories and travels about her own powers, her people, and the world around them. She sat enraptured as he rambled about a Spirit of Wit he’d once met who apparently had innocently deceived him many times out of humor before Solas finally realized with whom he was talking. 

Iz giggled at the thought of a very flustered Solas leaping about the fade trying to escape the most mundane of inconveniences that were set upon him time and time again. 

Cullen appeared at her side mid giggle and smiled at them. “Mind if I join?” Solas greeted him kindly, but his demeanor always changed around Shems. Iz, idly wondered where his mistrust, or maybe even hatred for their race stemmed from. 

Cullen sat as Solas excused himself, claiming he had a meeting he wanted to prepare for anyway. That left the two of them alone side by side in a quiet corner of the pub. Cullen leaned over and stole a sip from her goblet, before speaking. 

“I’ve actually already eaten, I came to ask you something.”

She looked at him curiously. Hoping it had nothing to do with Bull’s discovery this morning.

She cut him off with a wry comment before he could continue. “The answer is yes, I would like to keep a change of clothes in your room to avoid this morning's misadventure ever again.” 

She chuckled as he blushed a deep red and smirked at her snarky smile.

“Noted Inquisitor.” He said all business, and jotted a note on his clipboard that he kept on him at all times as official as possible. He continued sweetly, “I have some free time for a few days, and I checked with Josephine, your schedule is free as well. I … was wondering if you’d like to get away with me for a few days? There’s somewhere I’d like to show you.” He stammered through his line of questioning, his eyes growing wide, resembling a pup. 

Iz was a little startled. Go away with him? Where? And do what? Was it work related? Normally he would offer something like that at the War Council, not in a dark intimate corner of the public house. She looked at him a little confused and replied, “Sure, Cullen I’d love to accompany you. Where to? Is it work related?”

His eyes brightened with a smile that dazzled. “No ma Vhenan, for once it’s not work related.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He kept where they were going a secret and it honestly chewed at Iz. They rode through the pristine forests east of the Frostbacks. It was a young wood, this part of Fereldan had been scarred by the fifth blight and it showed on the land. Patches of growth were no more than a few years old, while elder woods towered over their children. Cullen smiled to himself and hummed softly a tune Iz had not heard before. His mount was the same sleek dark grey and dappled stud he always rode. He doted on that horse like a child, and the stallion’s behavior reflected it. Iz had even caught him a few times wandering off after training rounds, or hiding from his stewards in the stables with Blackwall. The boys often snuck into a stall or the hayloft and shared a few sips of whiskey before returning to the world. 

Iz rode beside him on a slightly smaller mount, but just as sturdy and beautiful. She had found the halla stag herself in the Exalted Plains. A Dalish clan of halla herders had left him behind in their haste to flee the fighting. He was injured badly, and she remembered fighting with Varric back at camp about whether to put him out of his misery. She stayed in the Plains though, tending to him for 3 weeks before making the journey back to Skyhold. There, Blackwall had done wonders. The little Buckskin Stag was in perfect health and peak performance. He danced lightly under her as they travelled along the path.

Iz looked curiously at Cullen as they approached the outskirts of a small town. His smile widened and he waved to a few people who seemed to know him, and well. He turned to her excitedly and said, gesturing “This is my hometown.” 

Islyandryl’s mouth dropped open and a chuckle came from Cullen as he saw her reaction. He had brought her home, something he’d never done with anyone before. Though, he couldn’t say he’d ever fallen for someone like this before either. He nervously waited for her to say something as they rode out of the other side of town and down a small hill toward his sister’s home. 

Her mind was racing. Not work related at all! She couldn’t believe she was here, and the smile on his face, Creators, was it delightful. This was such a romantic gesture and she had no clue how to respond!

“Cullen … It’s beautiful here.” was all she could muster as they meandered down the slope of a hill brimmed with wildflower fields and honey bees. 

He smiled contently and nodded an agreement to her, devotion filling his heart as he saw her curiously stare off at the view and surrounding fields.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sat at a humble table laughing and lightly drinking some of the most delicious mead Iz had ever tasted. It was actually two tables, one slightly larger than the other, that Cullen’s family had pulled together to sit around for dinner and celebrate. They never saw him, especially since he was elevated through the ranks and had become so successful.

His sister Mia was by far Izzy’s favorite. She chided Cullen repeatedly for not telling them he was alive after Haven. No, she had to learn about it through the Orlesian pamphlet her friend had given her regarding the Inquisition’s presence there. He apologized over and over again, not realizing at this point she was just doing it to get a rise out of him. Izzy giggled hysterically as Mia leaned in and whispered a story to her about Cullen’s childhood. He had been distracted by his brother talking about swordplay and their bets for the next tourney at the nearby estate. 

“And then, you’ll never believe this I swear. Our dear sweet faithful Cullen broke into the local chantry to search every pew for a letter he’d decided not to leave for his sweet crush. He was caught in his night clothes, gripping the note, and snagging a midnight snack from the altar of Andraste by the girl's father himself.” Izzy choked and sputtered at the twist of events. 

“He did not!” She gasped. As Mia fervently nodded. Cullen glanced nervously over at them.

“Miaaaa, what are you telling her? I swear nothing she says is true, it’s all lies.” He said in exasperation at the two of them cavorting at the end of the table. They giggled into their glasses of mead and continued gossiping. 

This was wonderful, it felt like the sweet summer nights her clan spent in the annual great gathering. When a number of clans converged in one area to share knowledge, exchange goods, and enjoy one another’s company. His family was really kind and welcoming, despite that she was the only elf at the table, and a mage. 

She’d become a little tipsy on the mead that flowed so freely, and was curious about the delicious concoction.

“I have to ask Mia, what is in this stuff? And where did you get it!?” Mia responded excitedly and giggled lightly at Izzy’s attention.

“Oh do you like it!? I’ll have Cullen take some bottles back with you if you’d like! I make it here on the farm. There are a couple flavors we make, this one is made from our honey we harvest right here in the fields, and Crystal Grace wild flowers.” 

“It tastes amazing Mia! Like I’m devouring Spring with every drop! I will have to tell Josephine about this when we get back she’s going to order so much of this stuff once I tell her!” She turned to Cullen mockingly “How could you keep such a secret from me?!” Feigning a wounded heart and giggling again. 

He smiled at her and shrugged innocently.

As the night wound down their eyes drifted to one another more frequently. Desire and tension building between them. Finally, everyone was retiring and Cullen clasped her hand softly as they walked out the front door waving behind them. They wandered along a lightly worn path toward a slight drop off in the hillside where it turned to stone. There was a small cabin at the top of the little cliff face overlooking the fields and town below. 

Cullen nervously pushed open the door to the small cabin for Izzy, and set their things down by the door. Izzy quickly knelt by the hearth and sparked a fire in her fingers quickly tossing it into the pre-made pyre. Cullen saw her delicate frame silhouetted by the fire and felt his heart swell as he knelt behind her and pulled her into arms. The both of them falling back against the end of the soft bed cuddling in the firelight. He brushed her hair softly with the tips of his fingers and she brushed his arm, his thigh, the side of his face. Her hands trailed along him, like she was learning every nook and cranny. He stared into her dark green eyes and kissed her softly.

“I’m so happy you’re here with me. You know I’ve never taken someone home to meet my family before?” Izzy looked into his golden eyes and saw the depth of his contentment. She didn’t understand the significance of bringing someone home to your family. That wasn’t a custom among the Dalish. She could sense its importance to him though.

“I’m really happy to be here Cullen, your family is wonderful.” Tenderly she reached up to kiss him. 

She felt his demeanor change as the position of her body pivoted to straddle him on the floor of their one room cabin at the foot of the bed they would share tonight. Completely alone with their cares far away for the first time since they’d met all those years ago. She felt him stir beneath her and their eyes grew murky with desire and lust. Cullen gripped her firmly behind the neck and pressed her body to him, kissing her again but more fervently this time, with an intensity like never before. Izzy pulled back gasping for air and her hands falling to his shirt. Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him, she undid his shirt and slid it off of his broad shoulders revealing his toned chest. Her fingers traced up one side of his abdomen up grazing his nipple and collarbone. Her mouth fell open and breathing grew heavier as she brushed the nape of his neck and up to the slight scar over his soft lips. Her hand fell over him again, quickly toward the base of his torso. Pausing, to look him in the eyes and see a fire lit within them. 

He gathered this beautiful mesmerizing creature in his arms and lifted her to her feet, the floor had grown too hard for this. He stood at the end of the bed, Iz standing before him as beautiful as ever in a pair of tight leather leggings and a small cropped flowing blouse. He leaned over her, his hands gripping her waist tightly.

“Izzy…” He breathed into her ear. She looked up at him feeling like she would burst at the seams at any moment. She wanted him, and standing here, like this, completely alone; there was nothing stopping her. 

She looked him in the eyes as her hands wandered into the waistband of his pants. His eyes widened with shock and he held her arms for a moment. He could feel her fingers dancing in the hair above his cock. He was throbbing and he knew she could feel it pressed together like this. But he needed to know she felt safe.

His voice was low and gravelly. “Izzy, I want you.” Her eyes flashed to his. Her fingers danced again. Maker, she was intoxicating. “I need to know you don’t feel pressured into this, and that you know we can stop at any point.” One of his hands released her advance on him and brushed her face tenderly. 

She smiled sweetly at him. He was always so caring, even now when she wanted to devour him and was clawing at him so fervently. “Cullen, I will tell you…” She paused for a moment, her voice growing slightly husky. “But believe me when I say I want you too, badly darling.”

At her confirmation he released her and grasped her face with both hands kissing her hard on the mouth. Her hand plunged down, grabbing his manhood and grasping it firmly and intently. He let out a slight gasp into her mouth, his lips falling open and eyebrows knitting as her hand slowly moved. His forehead rested against hers for a moment taking in her touch. His hands glided down the front of her shirt, catching on her pert nipple poking through the thin fabric. She shivered at his touch and he smiled greedily. He slowly lifted her shirt up over her head and gazed at her beautiful exposed breasts. He didn’t have to wonder anymore. Her tattoos ran all over her. A dendritic branch even curling around and onto her left breast, a small leaf encircling her nipple. His mouth watered at the sight, and Maker still his heart, he noticed two small barbs with decorated ends piercing each nipple. Her body was decorated in so many wonders. He moved them gently onto the bed, laying over her, enveloping her.

His hands brushed her sides again and his mouth left her lips, and trailed down her body slowly. His movement away from her grasp caused his erection to free from her grasp, but her gasps and shivers at his touch hardened him further. She felt the soft kiss of his lips on her nipple and felt him smile as she gasped. The stubble that had formed recently on his face grazed her breast making her back arch lightly. He lapped at her nipples, tweaking them gently in his hands and continued his adventure down her body slowly and sweetly. Her gasps grew louder as he approached her hips. He kissed and nipped at them gently as he undid her pants and pulled off both her boots and pants as quickly as possible. She sat up to help him as best as she could. And tugged at his breeches as well. Cullen stood and nervously disrobed. They were both naked now, standing before each other in the firelight which had grown brighter, casting shadows across the room. 

Cullen gently pushed her back against the bed and resumed nipping and kissing at her hips. She bucked slightly feeling his hands gently tease her. Andraste, she was so wet it was dripping onto her thighs in front of him. He loved the small jerks and moans she gave him when he lightly brushed her clit and the soft, throbbing entrance to her. 

Suddenly his hands were gone, and a moment of confusion crossed Islyandryl’s mind, her eyes had shut in concentration involuntarily during his exploration of her body. Before she knew what was happening his mouth was on her. There. She felt his tongue gently press against her, tickling her softly, and causing her to moan loudly. He was savoring her every second he could, but heavens, she was sexy like this. He changed the pressure of his tongue, rocking slowly and purposefully against the small erection or her clit in his mouth. When her moans became faint whimpers he would change tempo and build her up again, and again, and again. Letting her fall just before her pinnacle. She writhed underneath him now, gasping his name and pleading with her strained voice. 

She couldn’t take it anymore, her hands were wrapped tightly in his hair. She pulled him away from her against every signal in her body pleading with her otherwise. She slipped from under him and pushed him back softly, mounting him and admiring the view for a moment. His pale skin was taught over his muscles and he looked divine laying there his eyes excited and burning with want, his hair mussed from her desire earlier. It was her turn to tease him. If he was going to play hard to get she would give him a taste of his own medicine.

Without warning or gentle hints as he had given, she slid down his body, her mouth resting above him, erect and so ready for her. She greedily licked the length of his cock and took him into her mouth. He gasped and jumped slightly at the suddenness of her assault. Cullen quickly gasped and softly moaned as she worked him between her lips. Saliva dripped down his length and pooled at his balls. Izzy caught his eye when she could before plunging back onto him, aggressively gagging on his length and running her tongue along the underside of his cock as she pulled away. She continued her relentless assault until Cullen was gasping and shivering with every movement. She was going to undo him, but he still wanted more of her. He wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. 

She released him at his prompting, pulling her off of him. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and smirked happily at his worn and pleased face. 

“You are the goddess divine.” He whispered to her, taking her in his arms and positioning himself over her again.

She tensed ready and excited. Locking eyes with him and gasping loudly as he gently slid into her. He let out a low contented groan as he slowly moved. Their bodies matching each other's rhythm and crying out for each other in the fading light. It didn’t take long for them both to come undone wrapped around each other, dripping in sweat and passion. 

They lie there, spent, enraptured by one another and the peace they’d found. As the cool night air drifted in through an open window they held one another and whispered their love.


	8. Discovering One Another

When Iz woke she and Cullen were wrapped around each other, the sheets a tangled mess around them and the soft morning light was streaming through the window. She was pleasantly sore and stretched out her tired limbs beside him. When she turned to face him again he was smiling and his head was propped in his hand admiring her. 

She blushed at his obvious attention and recalled the wonders of the night before. Sure she’d laid with men before, but this was… otherworldly. 

Cullen lifted his free hand to trace her cheek softly and followed the line of her tattoos to her chest. When he’d met her all those years ago, he’d admired her, but had never dreamed of holding her like this. Even when Cassandra had asked him to join the Inquisition, he never imagined the Maker would bring them here. 

“Good morning handsome.” her voice lilted through the air toward him. A smile pricked at his lips and he just continued to quietly admire her.

He let out a deep sigh of contentment and replied finally “Good morning my love.” He timidly looked at her with curiosity brimming. “Can I ask you something Izzy?” She nodded tentatively.

“Do your tattoos carry meaning?” he asked innocently and sweetly. Tracing them with admiration and wonder.

Iz smiled at him, “Yes, they do actually.” She sat up and pulled the covers from her body exposing the full masterpiece etched across her. “The Elvhen people have lost a great deal of their history and culture over the years. One thing that has persisted is the marking of the body with Vallaslin when you come of age. Each vallaslin chosen honors a different deity. They’re tattooed in reverence and there’s often a long ceremony of reflection that follows.” Cullen stared in amazement, and a little shock. No wonder why Iz had struggled so much in the beginning with the term ‘Herald of Andraste’ she was a Dalish elf literally covered in the markings of a foreign deity. To her it must’ve seemed absurd. 

“What deity did you choose? If I may ask that?” She smiled sweetly at his line of questioning.

“You may.” She enjoyed that he was curious about her culture and religion. It had never been discussed with anyone but Solas in camp, and she often found it lonely. Iron Bull had even asked more about her religion and culture than anyone in her war council had. “I carry the mark of Andruil, she’s the Goddess of the Hunt. I took her for the courage and fearsome nature she displays. She is a true daughter of Mythal. My job in my clan was to hunt the secrets of the land and people, drawing blood when necessary in order to protect the clan. I carry with me the roots and branches of the forest she preserves.” 

Cullen rested quietly, staring at a spark of passion ignited in her eyes as she spoke. He chastised himself for never asking or giving thought to her culture. She was clearly a deeply faithful person and loved her people and the Creators she worshipped. She continued as he considered the words she spoke. “Most Elvhen only carry markings on their hands or face. I chose to cover my entire body in them. Aenethal had called me a ‘zealot strangeling’ when he first realized the full extent of my vallaslin.” Islyandryl’s voice lifted into a soft melodic laugh as she recalled the memory. When she caught Cullen’s eye she was dragged to reality. Aenethal was gone, as was her keeper, and her clan. She was proud to carry their memories on her though. 

Cullen sat and listened to her as she recalled the fond memories of her friends and family. She seemed to be bittersweetly happy as she spoke. He was grateful to see her open up to him like this. He saw a side of her he’d never seen before. The strong, intelligent, and powerfully selfless woman he often saw was actually a very gentle, compassionate, humble person who simply didn’t want to be alone. She just kept finding herself in inevitably lonesome positions.

Soon the sun was up and they dressed and ate together. Sweetly talking to one another, and losing themselves in conversation. Each mesmerized by the other. They finally emerged from their small respite, and wandered toward the marketplace of Honnleath. There they stopped in at a few shops collecting their meal for later. Some delicate fruits recently imported and still ripe, a local cheese, some of the honey from Mia’s farm, a thinly sliced cured meat from the butcher, and finally a thick fresh bread still warm from the oven of the bakery. While waiting for their order they overheard the baker talking with his son behind the counter.

“Dad, did you hear about the Dalish encampment that moved into the nearby forest? Apparently one of the game hunters stumbled upon them!”

“Oh, son, that’s hogwash and you know it! Those game hunters will spin any tale to sell their meat at a higher rate!”

“No dad, he was serious I swear! He said it wasn’t far! I’ll bet a few traders will come in soon enough!” He eyed Iz with anticipation and wonder once he spotted her pointed ears and evident markings. 

Cullen saw her eyes light up at the mention of a clan nearby and tried to slyly collect information about their whereabouts.

“Boy, did the hunter mention where he found this Dalish camp?” 

He shook his head sadly but quickly perked up and proffered the man’s name in hopes the Cullen would track them down and dish a good story later. Supposedly the hunter’s name was Kaden, Cullen curiously kept an ear and eye out in case an opportunity presented itself to learn more. 

They wandered past the small town and along the waterfront. Soon a small dock jetting out into the water appeared. Tucked away along the brush and cattails of the lake and dock were… Dawn Lotus. Islyandryl excitedly jumped into the marshy lakefront and plucked a few handfuls of the flower. She wore this as a perfume and was running low on her oils, this was perfect! Cullen smirked at her fondly as she excitedly looked at him perched over the fragrant flowers. When she returned to his side the scent of her was heady and intoxicating. They sat facing each other on the dock leaning against two posts at the far end and dug into their light meal they’d foraged and packed. 

Cullen smiled and wiped a few loose crumbs from the stubble on his face. “I used to come here as a kid all the time, it was a quiet place to escape my siblings.” He chuckled at the thought. “Mia always had a way of finding me.” Iz looked at him thoughtfully. In the distance on the far side of the lake, closer to town was a Circle of Magi tower. She idly wondered if it was the same tower where Cullen had been tortured. To have his memories of childhood and adulthood clash like that in the same place must’ve been hard. As if reading her thoughts he nodded at the spire rising out of the water. “That’s where I was first posted as a Templar…” He paused for a moment and looked Izzy in the eyes. “It’s where I learned to hate and mistrust mages. I never thought I’d come back here. Nevermind with a mage and to feel safe in their company.”

Izzy listened intently as Cullen opened up to her as she had to him that very morning. They were exposing the rawest most vulnerable parts of themselves and it was like gliding across a thinly frozen lake. Wondrous, feeling the chill air blowing in your face as you flew, but terrifying that it may shatter beneath you at any point. 

“What made you change your mind Cullen? You went through so much…”

He considered her question for a moment, genuinely considering it. 

“I think it was you. Not only the control you have over your own craft, and honesty about its dangers. But how you inspire others to work to gain the same control or pull back away from the darkness. I’ve spoken with Vivvienne, Dorian, and even Cole. I may not agree with them all the time on how to repair things, but I see that in their hearts they’re good people who abhor the evil brought into the world by some mages.” 

He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small coin. It looked like a game token; it wasn’t even real currency, pressed from a cheap ore to mimic real money. Izzy was truly puzzled as he held it out to her.

Cullen had no idea how Dalish custom worked. He’d wracked his brain the night before as she fell asleep in his arms. It was customary among humans to give someone a ring or jewelry if you wanted to declare your intentions or marry them. But what was the Dalish custom? Was there even one? 

He smiled as she took it in her hand and turned it over, feeling the weight of it. 

“When I left home to join the Templars my little brother gave me that. I think it was a last minute gift and just what he had on his person. He told me it would bring me luck… It was the only item I took from home when I left. We weren’t allowed to keep personal tokens from before taking the Order’s vows.”

Izzy giggled lightly “Commander Cullen, you broke a rule?” mockery in her tone.

He smirked at her and said “believe it or not it was worth it at the time. I’m sentimental I suppose.” He rolled his eyes at himself and chuckled. Izzy went to hand it back to him and he closed it in her hand and pushed it back to her gently. Oh Maker, he needed to be more direct. 

“It...It's for you, actually… You’ve been through so much and, well there's still more ahead of us. Much we don’t know the dangers of yet… I thought, maybe, it might bring you a little luck.”

Islyandryl was startled at his offer. This clearly meant a lot to him and she wasn’t sure how to respond and show him the depth of her understanding and returned affection for him. She’d think of something. For now she smiled and tucked it away in a pocket on the inside lining of her leather cutoff jacket. “Ma serannas, ma vhenan.” She leaned across the dock sitting forward on her knees and placing a hand on his chest for stability and kissed him soft and long. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had begun to wane, midday had passed and the heat of the day was starting to ebb away. Izzy found herself wrapped in a sleeping Cullen’s arms leaning against a post on the end of the dock. She had grown sore from stillness about a half hour prior, and now a numb pain was creeping up the leg that was awkwardly wedged between them. It was time to move, despite how adorable he looked resting there. 

Izzy decided she might as well have a little fun while she could though. She reached for a dawn lotus flower nearby in her small collection from earlier. She brushed it under his nose, and rather than wrinkling his nose he smiled softly and sighed in his sleep. 

Alright, she’d have to step it up a notch. She began to tickle his ears and nose with the tips of the plant, withdrawing when he sleepily batted them away. Izzy giggled softly at him, before dropping the flower she teased him with and using her hands to trace his clearly ticklish spots. Suddenly, Cullen awoke gasping at the suddenness of her hands and chuckled at her advancement on him. She could move now and quickly shifted her position so she was leaning over him and tickling his sides. He was wide eyed but smiling ear to ear, but she was not relenting. In an attempt to reposition himself and either free himself from her grasp or reatiate himself, he lost his balance. Cullen recalled where they were at that moment, precariously balanced against a post, jutting into a murky lake. He only recalled because as he lost his balance he tumbled into that very water beneath them. Izzy gasped and managed to stay balanced on the edge of the dock, her smile disappearing and frantically searching for him. 

Cullen came up sputtering. As he caught her worried stare, he let out a loud and cheerful laughter that became contagious between them and filled the air. He dragged himself from the water and chased her around the shoreline before scooping her into his wet arms and kissing her passionately. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They wandered back toward the house slowly, drying in the afternoon sun as they walked. Idly Islyandryl wondered if she could find the clan nearby. She would actually enjoy reconnecting with her people, but right now was time for her and Cullen. She couldn’t ask for something like that, they never got to be alone like this, and she was sure the chaos would only grow in the coming months. 

Cullen noticed Izzy’s silence and her gaze that would intermittently wander toward the woods at the edge of town. He summoned his courage.

“Izzy, would you know where to find the clan the butcher’s boy mentioned if you went looking for them?”

Shocked that he asked this and seemingly read her mind she stuttered for a moment. 

“Yes. I probably could find them. Dalish have a few secrets and methods of telling fellow elves where to find camps. Hints that shemlen would think were nothing.” 

Cullen’s eyes grew curious at her statement and she giggled. 

She winked at him playfully and saw his cheeks grow a delightful shade of pink. 

“Would you like to spend time with them Izzy? I wouldn’t mind if you did, in fact I intended to try and locate the hunter to get details from him later today.”

Izzy’s eyes grew wide at his thoughtfulness on the matter, but a sudden rush of anxiety flooded her.

“Are you bored of me already Commander?” She tried to play it off in joking manner but he saw through her guise. He stopped grabbing her wrist and tilting her gaze up to his. 

“No. Not in the least ma vhenan.”

Her heart caught in her throat and the only thought she could process was a profound astonishment at the intensity behind his words and desire behind his eyes. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to lock herself away in the cabin with him and forget about any and all distractions. 

Cullen broke the tension rising between them before he fell too far into it, hoisted her over his shoulder, and buried his whole being in her. 

“You should go find them my dear. I feel as though this isn’t a chance you get very often and it would be a good thing for you. Please correct me if I'm out of line in suggesting so.”

She smiled fondly at the depth of his care for her. 

“You’re not out of line at all. Do you really think I should? What will you do?”

He nodded genuinely excited for her. “I’ll spend time with my family. Maybe see if some old friends are still in town. You absolutely should.”

She nodded and allowed excitement to wash over her. “Alright, let me grab a small pack from the cabin first okay?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	9. Reconnecting

Islyandryl wandered through the young forest as evening approached and the sun began to set. She watched the wood intently, listening for sounds of creatures or beings nearby. She had tracked the Dalish clan about 5 miles outside of the village and had lost the trail. 

The Dalish often hid symbols of their people in inconspicuous places, carved into a burl on an elder tree, woven into a small creek with a staff and a touch of magic, a small collection of perfectly balanced stones on a far bank of a river. This clan had even woven a symbol into a dense patch of ivy that covered a young grove.

Iz sat at a river bend and refilled her canteen. If she couldn’t find them by nightfall she would have to camp alone at night or try to find her way back to the cabin in the dark. She really wanted to avoid either option at all costs. Smaller rifts were still a common occurrence in Ferelden, and demons could pour out of unstable ones. This concern only added to the fact that she was an elf in the land of shems. 

Her ears twitched backward at a slight crackling in the wood behind her. From the corner of her eye she saw someone emerge upstream and look to her. She tilted her hand in a mages pose ready to fight. Then recognition flashed across her face! It was a Dalish Elf! She’d found them. A smile lit across her face as she stood to greet them. 

* * *

Islyandryl excitedly stepped into the Dalish camp. So light on her feet she felt as though she were dancing. Her heart was heavy with the loss of her clan, but her people were still here through it all. That knowledge and reassurance lifted a weight from her that had been dragging on her soul, drowning her without her notice.

“Aneth Ara Da’len.” The keeper of the clan greeted her with a friendly face and kind eyes. She was gentler than the keeper Lavellan in word and action. They sat amidst the clan fire and shared stories. Islyandryl was anxious to hear how her people were fairing, especially throughout the reign of the Inquisition. What she heard here, she realized, would alter how she conducted herself as a representative of her people. 

“Resources have been scarce with the fighting, so many shems are among the wilds of the lands hiding, or just trying to survive. As a result we relocate camp more frequently. It is both a necessity and a danger to us. If we linger too long we risk becoming tied up in nearby issues. However, finding a new place to settle and moving between risks the lives of all within the clan.” A concerned elder of the clan relayed to Izzy. Her face grew taught with concern as she received reports from various elvhen present.

A small girl had lost her parents in a city alienage nearby. She and a few of her friends fled the city upon orphanage. She was the only one who made it to the clan. One had been devoured by a demon, and the other shot down by a shem. 

A young couple had left another clan to join this one when they’d passed close to one another. They were expecting their first child and this clan contained the family members of the husband. They had fared better throughout recent events and felt they would be safer among them than their old clan considering their circumstance. 

An elderly woman had lost her wife in a recent hunting and foraging party. Her wife had been a skilled mage and healer. She was healing the wounds on one of the hunters when a rift opened in the sky nearby. Demons poured out and she found herself amidst a war zone, local shems flooded from a nearby village to contain the rift as much as they could. A young person spoke up and told of how she’d died, helping a shem to stand and flee to safety, before being struck down by an ice bolt. Her widow sat before Izzy and shivered, clutching at her chest and looking from Izzy back to the flames of the clan fire.

Izzy bowed her head and murmured to them softly.  “Vir enasalin…” She in fact knew they would endure. They had for so long, it could not end here. She could not allow for this to continue happening to her people while a Dalish Elf stood at the front of the movement they were suffering under. She wouldn’t allow it to happen. Iz resolved to bring this to the war council the moment they returned to Skyhold. 

The First of the clan appeared a short time later. He freed Iz of the burden of conversation, and brought her to the cook fires. Here, Islyandryl could clear her mind and free herself once again. She lost herself in song. Softly and brightly singing as they combined herbs and spices with the hunt master’s catch that day. A stocky and well rounded Elk that was large enough to feed the entire camp for a number of days. 

She was grateful, especially the First and Keeper of any clan. To not only maintain, but promote the wellbeing of so many people through such hardship was amazing to Iz. She was proud of the Dalish for enduring through, and still desiring even striving for a feeling of thriving in this world. 

She stirred the small basin in front of her and let her mind wander. She had peripherally noticed a small group speaking a distance away and glancing in her direction. Soon, the meal was prepared and she sat in front of the clan fire once again. The taste of the dishes in front of her warmed her soul and chilled her with refreshment from the mundane. Shem food could be good, she even found a Qunari dish or two refreshing, but there was nothing like home. 

She was happy Dalish custom was something she could find anywhere and nowhere. It was special, protected, and hidden away; but it would appear all in the same way, suddenly and beautifully drifting. 

A young woman from the group that was huddled away before, sat beside her. Iz considered for a moment, as she smiled and greeted her, that she looked familiar. But there was no way. Her clan was dead. She was seeing this and projecting her grief onto these people. That's when the girl reached out at the sound of Iz’s voice and smiled ear to ear with a tear in her eye. 

It was her! 

“Blessed Creators!” Izzy shouted! 

“Islyandryl!” 

“Idriel!”

* * *

Cullen wandered into town with his sisters and brother in tow. They had all decided to go down to the local public house and have a friendly meal and a few drinks while they caught up with their brother, without the looming eyes and ears of parents or staff. They joked and laughed around the table as they exchanged stories and anecdotes. 

There was a small group of templars off duty having a light meal together and Cullen thanked the Maker that none of them looked familiar. The one thing he dreaded most about coming back here was running into someone from his days at the circle here. Kirkwall he could manage, but here, he wasn’t sure. With Izzy gone for the evening and most likely the night his courage had seemed to ebb. He surprised himself by throwing his voice into conversations he would normally sit out and quietly ponder. Cullen lit up with passion during these debates with his siblings too, it wasn’t mere filler to distract from the larger problem. He was actually finding comfort in his family, he hadn’t felt that way since… well since he was a child. 

Cullen realized the full effects of staying clear of the Lyrium. It was like he lifted the veil on his life, and broke the chains that bound him to the Chantry. He rediscovered himself bit by bit each day he was finding, but in this moment he took a leap he had never expected.  He had thought Izzy was the exception, the only one he would ever form such a bond with. Here he was forming those loving connections elsewhere in different forms, while holding the same depth. He loved the lilt in his eldest sister’s laugh and truly hoped her life with her partner was fulfilling and loving. He didn’t care that she’d married an apostate, in fact she had to remind him of the fact numerous times. Mia had a thriving business, and he was most definitely going to abuse his position to spoil his favorite sibling with gifts and opportunity for her talents. His little brother was, well, rambunctious. Cullen swore he would’ve turned out the same way had he not entered the Templar Order. He had a girl on his arm from the moment he’d walked into the pub and was so outgoing and flirtatious with her that Cullen blushed across the table at them!

Eventually Mia spoke up, unable to leave the massive dragon looming over the room any longer. 

“Okay, Cullen, you know we love you right?”

Uh oh… Cullen knew that tone. He was in trouble for something. What had he done now? Was it the fact that he brought home an elvhen mage ? No they surely wouldn’t mind? Would they?

Mia continued through his prolonged silence. “We just, well, what the hell happened to you Cullen? You’re a completely different person than when we last saw you in Kirkwall, nevermind since even your last letter!” 

Cullen stared at her blankly, completely puzzled. He was sure it would be a question of difference between Izzy and himself. But, no… What had… happened to him? The question puzzled him.

“What do you mean Mia? How am I different?”

His brother scoffed, and his eldest sister rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“You’re so happy Cullen.”

“You’re downright cheerful! Outgoing and energetic even!”

“They mean you’re not a stick in the mud anymore bro!” They giggled and nodded in unison raising their glasses together. 

His look of astonishment grew even larger at their comments. What in Andraste’s tits were they talking about, Izzy hadn’t changed him that much had she? 

“I… I don’t know guys. I didn’t realize I'd even changed that drastically…” He paused for a moment considering and then decided to continue his stream of consciousness aloud. “The only things that have changed since Kirkwall are… My job position in the Inquisition and well… Islyandryl.” He paused for another moment shaking away the thoughts of her from the other night brimming in his mind, blushing lightly. 

“Since my last letter... “ His eyes grew wide in realization. “The Lyrium withdrawals faded…”

Every one of his siblings' jaws dropped open and eyebrows knitted in frustration at his statement. They had no clue he was planning on quitting after leaving the order. They’d just assumed he would continue. That’s why he was going into work for the Inquisition, so he could fund the habit but be free of the Order. But he was off the stuff completely now. The realization shivered through each of them that they could lose their brother at any moment, his life or his mind… Was this just the calm before the storm? 

Mia immediately voiced concern “Are you okay otherwise? Physically? Memory is okay?” 

He chuckled softly, which in retrospect he realized probably sounded morbid and coarse to his siblings. “I haven’t had any issues since the withdrawals passed. They were rough, I was worried and almost didn’t follow through. But thanks to Izzy and a few good friends I stuck it out. It’s… good to hear that it shows actually.”

Their faces had turned hard at his laughter but softened again as they saw their brother realize and acknowledge the change in his life before their eyes. They were warmed to hear he had friends, it wasn’t just his partner who supported him. Most importantly, their brother wasn’t alone. So many Templars fell apart once they left the Order, the relief that washed over them was palpable to Cullen and he smiled at them.

As the night wound down the girls excused themselves to use the bathroom before heading home, and the boys took the opportunity to go outside for fresh air. They played in the dirt in front of the pub like teens. They never truly got to as kids and were laughing after a short while, the sound rigging against the buildings. They almost didn’t hear the scream from a road behind a shop across the courtyard. They ran over to see a small girl blood drawn from one hand and a dagger in the other. The group of Templars Cullen had seen earlier had their weapons drawn. Andraste’s Tits what had they walked into?

A blood mage stood before them. Cullen reached across the distance between himself and his brother, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him back around the corner. The Templars could take care of this and then they would help them get treatment for any wounds. They just had to wait and stay silent. He didn’t want his family in danger of any kind, and he knew if he leapt forward to help, his little brother would follow. 

He heard the clash suddenly, and gripped his brother's shirt tighter as he felt him lean against his grasp. Cullen was frozen to the spot. He heard gorish slicing and smelled burning flesh and steel. Someone had been cut down, and there was a rage demon for sure. He heard them struggling to push back against another force and Cullen, frustrated with the clear sound of a losing battle drew his sword for safety’s sake. He was wildly under armored and felt naked in this situation. His brother was completely unarmed though. He pushed him behind his stance as he heard a grinding, sizzling noise turn the corner. When Cullen glanced up a Rage demon was before them. Cullen maneuvered into the street quickly. Quickly, in sight of the Templars fighting a demon of Wrath, he realized just how out of hand the situation was. They would be distracted for a while, so the Rage Demon would have to be dispatched by Cullen. 

It swiped at them, and Cullen leaped back, shoving his brother to the side hard. 

“Stay down!” He shouted at him. He saw him crawl to the center of the road for the dead Templar’s sword and shield. Andraste preserve him, if these demons didn’t kill that boy he would. Cullen dodged and lashed back at the demon, catching it in the gut. Hot plasma oozed from the place Cullen had cut, and he could feel the heat of his blade. Templar swords were enchanted with runes to protect them from some of the elementals they would encounter around magic. His blade was not lucky enough to be enchanted with a fire protection rune, and he knew it would only take a few more hits before it melted in his hands. He was now between his brother and the demon though and he felt better knowing this. 

“Toss the shield!” He called to his brother in the brief moment before the Rage demon advanced again. 

As the demon turned and plowed forward toward Cullen, its mouth gaped open and flame shot forward. Cullen jumped back a few feet putting himself in better range to catch the shield but bringing his brother too close for comfort to the advancing enemy. Cullen caught and raised the shield just in time for the demon to lash down ward at him. 

Praise Andraste.

This item was enchanted with Fire Protection. It held against the demon and Cullen felt not a lick of flame or heat touch his skin. In fact it felt like he had plunged his hand into a cool stream on a summer’s day. 

He shoved back, piercing under his shield and up at the demon. He heard a sizzle and shriek as it backed away. That was the second hit on his sword and the demon still had a substantial portion of mana, he could sense it. His sword only had one more good hit before it failed. He could hear the battle with the Wrath Demon raging on behind him. He hoped they were out of range. 

That was when his stupid headstrong and brave brother charged forward at the backpeddling rage demon in front of them and struck out clumsily with the sword of the fallen templar. The blow barely landed, and when it did it sent the demon flailing at him now. With no protection, just a sword that most likely also had limited hits, Cullen tried to reposition himself between his brother and the demon or distract it again. However, despite a few shield bashes and even taunting the beast he couldn’t gain its attention for more than a few moments. 

The beast rushed his brother and in a moment of pure instinct Cullen lifted a hand toward him. A glow radiated out from a faint barrier about a foot away. As the demon collided with the barrier an icy chill creeped up its claw and toward its body. It’s arm shattering away an instant later. Cullen’s eyes widened. He’d just used Templar magic, without Lyrium. Without time to linger long on his astonishment he leapt between them shoving the demon back farther with his shield. He could hear the wrath demon falling behind him to the remaining Templars. Cullen, reinvigorated, channeled his energy again and tried something new. He focused his energy on his blade, and when he blinked again a blue glow surrounded his sword. He smiled lightly and charged forward dealing a death blow against the Rage Demon. The magic emanating from his sword protecting it and intensifying the damage dealt. 

As the demon sizzled away he turned to his brother and extended a hand, helping him up. He felt a little dizzy upon focusing on the boy in front of him and swayed lightly. The Templars approached grinning and jeering haughtily. Cullen grimaced as they passed the fallen mage with barely a regard, while stopping to cover their fallen comrade. 

Pity… for a blood mage… Well there was a feeling he never thought he’d experience. As the thought passed a tremor shook him and the dizziness redoubled. Crap, he’d over done it. Of course he had. He leaned on his brother for support, looking at him in concern. 

“Are you okay?” Cullen asked breathlessly. 

“Only because of you… thanks bro…”

Cullen grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the scene. They dropped the sword and shield before slipping back toward the pub. Cullen quietly hoped the Templars wouldn’t follow and hadn’t recognized him, but he knew it was unlikely. 

The girls were waiting out front concern etched on their faces as they saw the boys approach. They all but carried Cullen back to the main cabin. They even seemed to reflect a level of compassion toward him that, either he had never realized was always there, or had magically materialized over dinner.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you have any thoughts or feedback! First fanfic and would love anything readers have to offer! 
> 
> Also, I know I take a while between posts, but I promise it will never be a short post when I do.


	10. An Old Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drys is Idriel's Nickname for Islyandryl. Izzy is Cullen's nickname for her.

Hysterical girlish laughter filled the air. The trees sung with it, vibrated under the melodic but shattering sound. Animals around the two girls perched high in the elder tree bristled and scurried away from the sudden intrusion on their peace. 

“Drys Stop! You’re gonna make me lose my balance!” 

There was a face splitting smile plastered across their faces. True divinely naive happiness hung around them like a soft mist. Gently clouding them from the world around them and soaking them to the bone. 

They heard footsteps beneath them and the mist cleared suddenly like a branch shattering in a storm. The two young girls glanced down at the ground to find the Keeper and the First of clan Levallan staring up at them tutting and glaring. 

“Do lessons no longer entertain you two? Or perhaps you are so wisened to believe you are not in need?”

They shook their heads in unison and scrambled down the tree like two bear cubs who had spotted their mother dragging home dinner. 

Islyandryl and Idriel stood together in front of their elders and cast their gazes away. 

“We merely wished to enjoy the woods and play Keeper, that is all we promise. We didn’t mean to offend you…”

“We’re sorry Keeper…” 

A soft smile pricked at the corners of the old man’s eyes. 

“Enjoying the woods, eh?”

They nodded with vigor and intent. A light shining in their eyes.

The First still looked stern beside him, tutting away. She was a formidable woman, The First of their Clan had taught them absolutely everything they knew. How to hunt, how to fish, how to identify and harvest every herb, truffle, and leaf that could be of use to their clan across so many lands and biomes. They were convinced her mind was magical, to hold such a vast collection. 

“There is always a time for happiness, forgive my haste and assumptions children.” 

The girls ear-to-ear grins returned in a split second, and the First paused for a moment reconsidering herself. 

Before they knew it they had been hoisted up onto the shoulders of their elders and were prowling through the dense woods of the Arbor Wilds. This was by far Drys’ and Riel’s favorite place their clan visited. They could wander and explore to their heart’s content here, and the ground was full of marvelously beautiful and rare stone. The air was full of a flowery, piney scent and brightly colored birds flitted from one tree to another. It was like a haven from the rest of the world. Most of the other forest’s Drys had encountered with her clan seemed bleak and dreary in comparison. Like a monster devoured the heart of the forests there and had left this one unblemished. 

Riel and Drys clamoured for the vines as they passed under the cave roof and collected herbs above their elder’s heads as they went, wandering back toward camp. 

“Children, tell me, I cannot quite remember the details in my age, do you know the story of Fen’harel?

Drys rolled her eyes. She knew the tactic the Keeper was trying to pull, using his age and memory as a ploy to listen rather than tell them a story. 

Riel didn’t seem to catch on though as she nodded in excitement on the shoulders of the Keeper and began rattling on, telling the story they’d heard a million times like it was fresh in her mind. 

Drys smiled at her friend's excitement and gently arranged the herbs she’d foraged into a rope that she proceeded to braid into the First’s hair while listening to her dearest friend.

* * *

Memories flooded to Islyandryl as she looked into her eyes with wild abandon and disbelief. The green, so light it could barely be called green. They looked like a cup of freshly brewed tea, like someone had steeped the mixture of sweet peppermint just long enough to tint the water. Specks of brown and a hazy yellow darted her inner iris like remnants of the brew that settled to the bottom of your cup as you drank. That is exactly what Islyandryl did now. She drank in those eyes. The disbelief washed away as she saw her truest and longest friend, here in front of her, and alive. 

They embraced by the clan fire, the warmth blazing beside them as they fell together sobbing. Izzy tore away to trace the lines of her Vallaslin. 

“Riel…”

“Drys…”

“Is it truly you? How?”

“My dear, that is a long… and hard story to tell…”

Izzy bowed her head sadly, kicking herself for asking such a thing so soon. 

“We have much to share, forgive my haste. My relief and joy to see you overflows though.” Islyandryl stumbled and slipped through her emotions as she did her best to express herself to someone she thought long dead. 

“How are you, dearest one?” Idriel asked with a tenderness that broke Drys all over again.

Idlyandryl chuckled softly, “I am shouldered with more burden then I know what to do with and I am the sole Dalish born amongst numerous races and peoples trying to right this world. It is far from perfect Riel.” Izzy giggled softly thinking of Cullen’s antics. “But it has its moments.” 

Riel nodded and smiled softly but sadly as her friend spoke. 

“I heard of your exploits shortly after news of the Inquisition reached Kirkwall. Our clan threw such a celebration that night.” Idriel smiled fondly at the memory, but noticed Dyrs’ face fall and quickly moved on. 

“After everything… I found a clan and I've been passing between as our people drift near one another, helping where I can. After you left I took your place as First you know. A First without a clan is a hard fit for a wandering life.” She saw Islyandryl’s stoic face knod gravely. For the first time in months Riel had found someone who truly understood what she was going through. Drifting in the world as a Daish, Clanless, leader. It was a juxtaposing predicament that there seemed to be no panacea for. 

Iz reached out to grasp Riel’s hand a little tighter than before, and smiled reassuringly. That was her only response, to the confession. It was all that was needed to communicate everything she needed to. These girls had grown up together, as sisters, clan members, rivals, and friends. They had even…. Creators, Izzy couldn’t think of that now. 

They fell into conversation like they had never parted. Like nothing had even gone wrong in their lives. They were high in the elder tree again, balancing precariously on a branch, laughter ringing through the camp and echoing amongst the elves around them. There was no one but themselves to break their revelry this time though. The Old Keeper and the Keeper who had made them both her first were no longer in this world. They’d passed on, and all left the burden of knowledge and existence to them. For a moment they could shed the weight they carried and bear it together. 

The night waned and fire died to embers. A night guard tended to the fire, keeping it burning low until daybreak. But the crowd had dispersed hours ago. The two girls were intertwined against a fallen tree beside the small fire, still chittering. 

“Riel, may I offer you something?” 

Idriel, paused her story abruptly and glanced at Drys with curiosity. What in the world could she physically offer her that would help more than this? 

Riel nodded purely out of curiosity. 

“Come back with me. Or meet me in Skyhold when you feel ready to depart our people… We need… I need more Dalish amongst the Inquisition. We need the support of someone like you, and well… perhaps you can find something you need there.” 

Izzy bit her lip, hoping not to offend her friend. To suggest a Dalish leave their people freely, wasn’t something that was done. But their situation was unique, wasn’t it? There could be an exception. If not Iz hoped Riel would forgive the suggestion…

Silence curled around them like a python’s grip. Constricting and choking the sir from their lungs. Neither breathed, one in anticipation and the other in deep shock and contemplation. When It seemed they would perish under the pressure building Riel finally let out a sigh. Slow, sad, and wanton. Islyandryl looked to her friend in concern and worry, distress plastered across her face, despite her attempts to compose herself. 

“Drys… I don’t know.”

Izzy bowed her head. 

“Forgive me.”

“No!”.... “Wait, I don’t mean- ugh.” 

Riel stammered and stumbled. The air around them had changed slightly. Tensed and grew heavy. The branch beneath them had snapped under the weight of their burdens. 

“Drys, I mean there is nothing to forgive. I have a lot to consider, I’ve never been away from our people before. I wouldn’t know how to function. I would be a distraction, another burden.”

Islyandryl shook her head, startled at her friend's words. She was thinking all wrong. Well at least in the case of how she would be an imposition, it was exactly the opposite!

“Riel, listen. You could never be a burden, even if you tried. However, there is space for you, roles for you to fill should you ever wish to take them. There are resources too, ways we could work together to help our people. I will leave the rest up to you, leaving our people… is not easy. I came here tonight to reconnect, and I have, but this is the first interaction I have had the opportunity for in years. I am aching for this. I will not ask you to do something like that to yourself. However, if you feel as though it is something you want to shoulder in the chance that it may benefit our people. Your presence would be welcomed.”

Iz, realized she had rambled a little too late. As she finished she noticed the smirk on Riel’s face and tossed away a small branch she’d been fiddling with anxiously as quickly as possible. The complete lack of grace sent the stick flying across the ground and thumping into the guards boots a few feet away. She winced and apologized with her eyes, the awkward heat of the moment causing her to shrink in on herself. 

Riel tittered at her blunder softly and melodicly. Causing Iz’s blush to deepen. Her countenance softened when Riel reached for her hand and held it in both of hers. Iz glanced nervously into her unbearably bright eyes, and felt the weight lift off of her for a split second. 

“I will promise you this. I will think about it. One way or another you will receive word from me. This clan has a few hawks they keep. I will tell you When I’m ready to leave or if I decide to stay amongst our people. Either way, I doubt this is the last time our paths will cross, my soul.”

My soul… Islyandryl’s heart fluttered in her chest. She had to hold her breath for a moment to still herself. She and this woman did have a history, a past. She didn’t mean to call on it now, but there always had been something tying them together one way or another throughout their lives. She was her soul, whether that be a mate or kindred spirit they were bound. They would see one another again regardless of the paths they chose. Iz was grateful her life still wandered this earth and not the next. It had been her death that had haunted her dreams the most. 

Izzy nodded and smiled tenderly, they understood one another clearly. 

As they parted for the night Iz could swear she felt eyes watch her enter her tent and close the curtain. Izzy had just veiled her eyes and dipped her head. Not wanting to know one way or another if Idriel was still there, or if it had all been a dream. 

* * *

Cullen lie awake alone. The warmth of the bed and small hearth fire comforted him, but it was a shallow warmth. His mind wandered. He worried for Izzy. Had she found the nearby clan? Was she alone in the forest or had something happened to her? 

He had been able to distract himself from the thoughts of concern all night, until he lay in their bed, obliterated and exhausted. Then the only thoughts that could fill him were of concern. He reached across the bed for the pillow she’d used last night. It still smelled of her. He drew it close to himself and willed his body to sleep. He’d see her tomorrow. He’d meet her in the clearing beyond town at noon. She would be there, or he would raize the earth to find her. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Idriel join the Inquisition? Will seeing an old flame as bright as her cause issues for Izzy and Cullen?


	11. Horrors and Treasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Rape, Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Cullen paced anxiously. He stood near the edge of the clearing. There was a small shrine along the road for travelers departing the village. He glanced at Andraste’s face every few minutes pleading for patience and safety for Izzy. It was an hour past the sun’s peak. 

Maker! Where was she!?

In the silence he heard a small humming, an odd tune. It was light and melodic but had the interspersed flat or sharp note. It gave it a dreamy and sultry quality. Cullen glanced anxiously around looking towards the sound. In the distance he saw a small flash of dirty blonde hair and relief washed over him. She rounded a bend in the wood and could see him through the treeline. Her tune cut short by the sight of his gleaming amber eyes.

His worries washed away the second he saw her face. She was… brighter somehow. Her green eyes were coruscating with a new light he had not seen in her, not for a very long time. Not since the night he saw her stand before a clan fire and release the souls of her friends from this world. He smiled lovingly and embraced her the second he could reach her. He took in a deep draft of her. She smelled of campfires and spices, and… there it was… He dipped down to kiss her and caught it by her throat. The smell of Dawn Lotus and Embrium, faintly drifting in the background of her scent, but full and refreshing as it had always been. 

They pulled apart and Cullen surveyed her quickly for any knicks or bruises. She was all clear. No need for any nursing or apothecary visits. She giggled at him as she spun slowly for him, his hands wandering over her fussing incessantly. He smirked at her response, completely unashamed of his overconcern and doting. He was well aware he was being extreme. In truth he dreaded returning to Skyhold and having to explain to Josephine, Lelianna, and Cassandra that the Inquisitor had been hurt during their travels. The tongue lashing he would get from the three of them, surprisingly Josephine the worst. He shivered at the thought. 

She handed him her pack at his insistence and held each others hands as they wandered back toward the village and their temporary home. 

“What in Andraste’s name do you have in here? It feels like your pack has tripled in weight since yesterday!” 

Izzy laughed lightly. 

“Ohhhhh a bit of this and a bit of that. Let’s just say the Elvhen are very generous and if I had tried to refuse these gifts they probably would’ve turned up at our cabin mysteriously anyway… Plus I did a touch of shopping…” She smirked at the last statement and Cullen caught notice.

“Will you show me what you brought back?” He glowed with curiosity, especially at the thought of Izzy  _ shopping _ . What did a girl like her  _ want _ ? Things she needed came to mind with ease, but things she wanted out of pure joy, Cullen wanted to know.

She nodded shyly, caught a little off guard once again by his increased interest in her culture and background. She adored it, it gave her comfort, but it still shook her to her core to see a Shemlan’s eye’s brighten over talk of elvhen things.

As they strolled through the town they imparted their adventures to each other. Izzy told Cullen all about Idriel, the possibility of her joining the Inquisition. She gushed over the food she was given last night and this morning. The faces she made describing some of the food made him blush a little. He didn’t realize the simple things she’d missed. Finally she tore into how she’d spent her morning. Speaking with elders of the clan and the Keeper, discussing the needs of the clan she stayed with as well as others they’d encountered. She was given the location for the next Arlathvhen, to take place not a year from now. Islyandryl was in full Inquisitor mode. It impressed Cullen how easily she slid between the loving, joyous girl he loved to the understanding and intimidating leader he respected. 

He relayed his night to her as lightly as he could, trying his best to gloss over or lessen the more concerning parts. Like his defeating a rage demon solo, or utilizing his templar powers without Lyrium to the point of complete exhaustion. She saw through his mask of gentle explanation and leered at him suspiciously.

“Do not think I’m not going to give you a once over once we’re back in the cabin. If there is a single scratch on you I swear…” 

She could feel him roll his eyes at her, Izzy didn’t even have to look to know. 

As they passed through the small village and approached the path toward Mia’s farm they heard the clang of armor and scuffle of boots behind them. 

“Commander Cullen!”

They turned to find two Knights Templar rushing to kneel in front of them. Dust billowing up from their boots. 

Islyandryl stood a little in shock. Cullen's face fell in depression and then he immediately recovered, switching into his professional self as best as he could.

“Yes, How can I help?”

“Sir, we are the Templars who fought by your side last night. We are grateful for your assistance with the Rage Demon our brother fell to. Please allow us to submit ourselves and our swords to aid the Inquisition.” 

Izzy watched Cullen’s face change ever so slightly. He looked, tired? No that couldn’t be it, they were on vacation to reset exactly that. It was a sort of detachment from the current situation. Like a part of him was drifting just behind him, waiting for this moment to pass so it could return.

“You are welcome to commit yourselves if that is what you truly wish, The Inquisition will take any and all aid offered. Thank you for your dedication, and in fact, thank you for slaying the Wrath demon and protecting the village-

May I ask? What occurred to create such a being and push the mage to such means?”

The two Templars face’s dropped from the delighted smiles of accomplished warriors the second he mentioned the mage. They glanced nervously at one another. 

Cullen’s face dipped again slightly, the detachment growing ever so minutely…He stood and waited for response in complete silence and hardened his eyes at the men in front of him. 

Realizing that they would remain until the question was answered, and sufficiently they stammered forward. 

“Sir, she-”

“Well you see, we-”

“She was particularly challenging in the local circle before the Inquisition… Fell in love with a mage in another circle during an exchange program. Became insufferable following the outbreak of war.”

“Refused to leave and find him, insisted she would rather remain in the tower with a few others who cling there for the safety of the old ways-”

“But you see she fled the other night and well, we were looking for her-”

“Things just went badly-”

Cullen cleared his throat cutting off their rambling. 

“So let me read between the lines here…” 

Islyandryl’s eyes widened a bit at his imposing stature and the change in his tone. It was menacing and angry. She’s never imagined such a face on her sweet Cullen. She watched curiously but cautiously. 

“You-” Cullen pointed to the man on the right, the one who had called her insufferable.

“You tried to rape her, or did so sucessfully, I’m assuming a number of times to shut her up about her lover. I’ll believe that part.”

“You-” Cullen turned to the other man who’s jaw had fallen open, and eyes widened.

“You’re the bastard who helped him do it without getting caught and who probably let her out of the circle accidentally, intending on killing her for him before she squeaked.”

The men fell backwards on their knees, hands held up defensively. 

“No, no sir you’ve got it all wrong!”

“Yes, no way we would-”

Cullen took a singular step forward. That’s when Izzy saw it, the ever so slight blue glow of the aura around Cullen. He had unintentionally called the power to himself. It was faint but palpable. Brewing just under the surface of his skin, waiting…

Izzy, prepared herself to throw a ward and protect him from his own chaos should she need to. Magic out of control was magic out of control. While Cullen had mastered his Templar powers years ago, he’d only yesterday realized he had them without the Lyrium. 

The men trembled and dropped their heads in defeat, they’d been caught.

“I will bring you back to your Captain posthaste. You will answer to them for what you’ve done. Her life was not something for you to toy with. Should you join the Inquisition, know that such behavior is punished and mere thoughts of such malice unwelcome. Do I make myself clear?”

They nodded feverishly.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Yes sir.” They both said in quick succession. 

He squeezed Izzy’s hand gently. She’d just noticed that she’d reached out to him unconsciously. His aura had faded gently. 

“ _ Inquisitor _ , would you care to accompany me or shall I meet you later?”

He’d used her title intentionally. To shake these men further. Izzy was repulsed by them. What she’d learned they’d done to the poor girl, who she knew was dead from Cullen’s earlier description of the events. 

“I think I shall accompany you Commander.” 

* * *

They sat in their cabin on the edge of their bed in silence. Cullen looked far away and oh so tired. Izzy was repulsed and sick to her stomach.

“Cullen?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know?”

He sighed heavily and fell back onto the bed draping his arm over his eyes. 

“I knew last night. When we passed the girl during the fight. She had more than the wounds from the battle. She had bruises on her wrists and neck. Her makeup was smeared. T- there was blood, where there shouldn't have been from her wounds…”

Izzy’s eyes grew wide… He’d not told her this as he’d shared last night's depictions. He’d glossed over far more than she’d realized. 

“I was with my brother, my sisters… I didn’t want them to see that… I knew they’d take care of her body… She’ll get a proper burial now that we’ve addressed the issue…” 

Izzy lay down beside him looking toward his face. She softly reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. 

“Thank you.”

He lifted his arm in surprise and looked at her.

“For what?”

“For making sure they were held accountable. No one should get away with something that horrid. I hope they join us honestly…”

“What?! Why in Andrate’s name would you say that?”

She smirked at him, he was still fuming she could tell.

“Because, it means you got through to them…”

He froze, realization crossed his face and smiled faintly as he set his head back down on the bed. Izzy curled up on his now extended arm and they lay there for a moment.

The silence hung around them, but it wasn’t smothering them. It was comfortable. They were processing the time they’d spent here and what they’d just experienced. But they were very much not alone, and still happy to be where they were. 

Cullen broke the silence first.

“Show me what you brought back?”

She smiled and nodded as they sat up, Izzy pulled her pack up onto the bed and pulled its contents out. 

In front of Cullen lie bundles, upon bundles of dried meats and fish. There was a small satchel full of small wooden jars labeled with various elvhen terms, and two carefully wrapped packages in what looked like Halla skin. Izzy launched into explanation excitedly.

“These jars contain a number of spice mixtures my people make. They recognized my reaction to the food-” she giggled loudly at the thought. “An elder grabbed my stomach and cheeks so hard after giving this to me said ‘Those damn shems can’t cook for the life of them. Here, these will fatten you right up.’”

Cullen chortled at the thought of Izzy being manhandled by a little old elvhen woman. 

“The dried meats are customary, though I do believe they were a little excessive. And these-” Her smile grew even larger. “These I have to show you.”

She opened one of the packages. Untying the hide strings holding the package shut. It was a large bundle but light. She stood and held out the item, a dalish tunic revealing itself. It was gorgeous he had to admit. The craftsmanship was impeccable. The delicate soft cloth with intricate detailing throughout. It was a charcoal color and fell just about halfway down Izzy’s thighs. It had lace detailing woven along the collar stretching to the wrists and hem. The material he just couldn’t place. The neckline of the tunic startled him. It tapered so low on the bodice he couldn’t imagine it was worn bare. He recognized some of the symbols detailed across the lacework, they reflected the dendritic branches on Izzy’s body. He stared at her curiously.

“It’s beautiful Izzy.”

She giggled lightly. 

“It’s meant to be a form of celebration wear, for the Summer festival. It’s right around the corner and well, I thought maybe this would convince me to celebrate, even if it’s just me.” She smiled fondly at the clothing.

“What is this material? I can’t place it.”

She laughed. “ _ That _ my dear is a Dalish secret. But I shall tell it to you. It is made of spider silk.”

He rolled his eyes at her. There was no way she was serious. She was pulling his leg because she knew he was gullible and knew very little of Dalish custom despite his years and travel. 

Her laughter grew louder at his reaction. 

“No I mean it Cullen. I’m serious. Feel it again. It’s a very old technique and there are only a few spider weavers across the Clans. To learn from a spider weaver takes years of practice and true talent. Also a touch of courage I suppose.”

He stared in awe. She was serious. 

“Iz, how much did this cost?”

Her head bowed slightly. 

“I...It was a gift…”

Cullen blanched, if what she said was true this was no casual gift. He was sure Izzy struggled over taking it, but was truly so happy to hold it in her hands.

“I’ll make sure you have a reason to wear it…”

Her eyes widened and she hugged him tightly.

“What about the other one?”

“Oh! This is also a gift! But actually- 

Well um- 

It’s for you…”

She thrust the small container at him. The Halla skin was soft to the touch and a creamy white. He unraveled it slowly. It held a small pendant on a leather cord, it was made of a polished and treated piece of ironbark. It had been carved into a flat sphere, a single yellow drop of gold pressed into the natural burr in the center. To Cullen it almost looked like a small sun, it’s rays stretching out from the center droplet of gold along the cracks and crevices in the wood. He turned it over in his hands. It was a small light thing, he was a little puzzled by it and Islyandryl’s obvious anxiety next to him. 

“It well… it reminded me of you… It looks so much like a Chantry star, and it was made by my people. It was too good to pass on.”

His eyes flashed with realization. She was trying to give him a part of herself while respecting his faith and his beliefs. The depth of her gesture sunk into his bones and rattled him. 

“Thank you Izzy, this means the world to me…”

She gleamed a blinding smile at him and launched into his arms kissing him hard on the mouth. 

“I’m so relieved you like it!”

He kissed her back fervently. The memories of the other night flooding to him. They were alone and he was so enraptured by her he couldn’t resist. His hands wandered from her face down her body and grabbed her waist and thick hips. He ground her into him gently but firmly. 

Iz let out a gasp at the passion behind his actions, and the feel of his body pressed against hers. Her hands wandered in response. Grasping the growing bulge in his pants and looking him in the eye with a devilish smirk.

He cussed under his breath at the sight. Her dark green eyes piercing him and the way she looked like she was going to devour him. The next thing he knew she was pushing him onto his back and she was gliding down his body, grasping at his waistband. He nodded encouragement and she made quick work of his pants. Just as she made a move for his very much erect and throbbing cock a sharp knock came at the door. She jumped away from him and he quickly covered himself with the blanket they’d pushed aside. She sat flushed and perched on the end of the bed like a flighty creature about to bolt. 

“What!” Cullen growled.

Before they could protest Cullen’s brother burst into the room smiling.

“Dinner is almost ready and Mia’s complaining you two havent-....” His eyes fell between the two of them cutting himself off mid sentence with the realization of what he just walked in on.

He raised his hands defensively and reported.

“Ehem- but I’ll just tell our dear sister you’re busy treating your appetites other ways. Good luck brother!” He left with a wink at Izzy and her blush deepened further. She could feel her ears hot all the way to the tips.

“DON’T YOU DARE! GET BACK HERE YOU MANGEY FOOL!” 

Cullen leapt from bed and rushed to the door, unceremoniously shoving his manhood back into place and clasping his pants. 

“Don’t tell Mia a thing! We’ll be right there!” He shouted furiously out the door and down the path. 

He wandered back in and sighed heavily. Glancing only then at Izzy who was still perched there mortified. He chuckled at the sight of her. Green eyes wide, hair a mess, her pert nipples still poking through her blouse, and the redness in her cheeks reaching up to the tips of her ears…. He wanted to nibble her right behind there… He loved to watch her shiver and gasp when he did that…

But not right now. That moment had died. He reached for her tenderly helping her off the bed, and kissed her softly on the forehead.

“I’m sorry my darling. Perhaps we can resume later? It seems despite our escape here we’re still needed.”

She smiled at him and nodded toward the door, her stomach grumbling at the thought of food. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment ! Feedback is oh so welcome!


End file.
